Desired Blood
by missterio
Summary: It is known that all vampires are drawn to those that they loved or shared the same blood, in their former lives: their Dear Ones. If Eichhorst found out that, he too, has a "Dear One" out there...how would he handle it? Not well, that's to be sure.
1. What The Heart Wants

_AN: So I had this idea for awhile now about Eichhorst...perhaps having a child before his days as a vampire. In the present time, this child would of had families of their own, and now...Eichhorst has a great-granddaughter. The vampires in The Strain, have a "need" that almost drives them crazy: to turn their loved ones, or blood relatives, into creatures like them. If Eichhorst had such a person...how would he react or handle it?  
_

 _So the story here is about this possibility._

 _I also wanted to start off with a quote from Edgar Allan Poe. It's one of my most favorite from him. I believe I want this story to have that same dark and foreboding feeling as the words here, from his poem. I first heard it as an introduction to the game "Eternal Darkness: Sanity's Requiem". The way it was read...it definitely left an impression on me._

 _Hope you all enjoy the story!_

* * *

 ** _"Deep into that darkness peering,_**

 ** _long I stood there,_**

 ** _wondering. . ._**

 ** _fearing. . ._**

 ** _doubting. . . "_**

 **-Edgar Allan Poe**

* * *

 **Chapter One:**

 _4 years ago..._

 _"... Claire."_

 _"What?"_

 _"Why did you call her 'mom'?"_

 _"Huh? I don't-"_

 _"You called her 'mom'. Why?"_

 _"Oh...well, I...I guess it slipped out. I...didn't mean to."_

 _"..."_

 _"It's just...I've known her all my life, and...I guess she's been so much like a mom to me, that...she kind of is-"_

 _"She's not your mom."_

 _"Oh..."_

 _"She's_ my _mom. Dad says you're only here because_ your _parents are dead."_

 _"... I know... I know..."_

* * *

It was then and there that Claire Wright knew she had to find her "own" family. It seemed like only yesterday when her cousin, Chris Wright, had told her this hard truth . She never really felt part of her aunt and uncle- Trish and Ben's- family, and Chris hit the nail on the head when Chris reminded her of that fact. He was only eleven at the time, and always angry at the world around him. Even if, at the time, he didn't really know what he was saying- even if he didn't really mean it- it meant something to Claire. She was (in her mind) always considered the "black sheep" of his family, after all.

There was nothing particularly special about Claire, except for her artistic ability to paint fine arts. Through all her life, she has kept to herself and never gotten into any trouble of any kind. She had little friends; however, those few friends, she did keep close and almost considered them family. ...Although, she didn't know if they felt the same way. Because of Claire's shy and rather awkward nature at times, she has been somewhat of a recluse, and this aspect of her has concerned both her aunt and uncle. They were happy that she has been a "good girl" all through her twenty-one years, but they wished she was a little more assertive with herself. They wished she was more adventurous and daring, like sneaking out of the house or going with a group of friends to a rock concert. Because of her reserved ways, Aunt Trish and Uncle Ben have considered Claire to be a predictable person.

... Or so they thought...

Claire's aunt and uncle had adopted her into their family after her parents died in a car accident that claimed both their lives. That part Claire always knew. What she didn't know, and wanted to know, if there was anyone else out there related to her, other than her aunt. Throughout her life, Claire felt so alienated from her aunt and uncle's family, because her interests, her likes, her hobbies, and even her mannerisms were so different from them. So she figured: if she was nothing like her dad's side of the family...what of her mother's?

She had questioned her aunt and uncle quite a few times about her mom, but it only led to shrugs or they'd say they really didn't know Claire's mother as well as her dad did. Their lack of knowledge on her mom's side only made Claire more curious, frustrated, and then anxious to find out the answers. So, Claire took it upon herself to seek out the information she so desired; and this... _this_ is what her aunt and uncle were unaware of, and she wasn't going to tell them about it any time soon. After all, would they not be hurt or feel betrayed that Claire decided to go behind their backs to find out the family tree? In Claire's mind, they would.

With whatever money Claire had scrounged up secretly during the years, she invested it into one of those ancestry websites, giving them whatever information they needed in order to produce Claire's own "family tree". She waited many eager months for the results, and when they came, she was more than excited to see what was given to her. Unfortunately, her mom's side of the family were...scarce, to say the least. It was odd: her father's family tree was plenty and full of relatives; the other side barely branched off anywhere. With this few people on her mother's side, Claire assumed that maybe they were individuals that kept to themselves most of their lives...just like Claire has.

It was interesting though: her mom's family tree started with Claire's great-grandparents; or grand _parent_ , for that matter. Her great-grandmother was unknown, much to Claire's disappointment. Her great-grandfather, on the other hand... Claire examined the picture she had received of this man. Thomas Eichhorst, was the name printed on the photograph. It was an old black-and-white picture, with her great-grandfather wearing a military uniform of sorts. He was tall, normal build, and had well defining, masculine features. He appeared well presented, and the way his uniform looked, Claire guessed that he was a high-ranking officer. It was when she better examined the uniform did her features sour: He was a Nazi officer.

With a defeated sigh, she put away all this ancestry information in a well-hidden place in her room. Even if there were people she wanted to contact on her family tree, she would rather do it when she had her own place to live. Since the economy wasn't in anyone's favor at the moment, Claire moving out of her aunt and uncle's wouldn't be any time soon.

Of course, this all happened several years prior...

Now, nearing Claire's twenty-second birthday, her aunt and uncle have announced that everyone is taking a two-week trip to New York through a time-share plan. While Claire's cousin had rejoiced to this news, Claire could only groan inwardly. She wasn't fond of going to places she considered "uncharted territory". She preferred the comfort and safety of her own home; or better yet, her own room.

Claire attempted to talk her way out of going. For over a week Claire had brought it up many, _many_ times that she didn't want to leave, but her aunt (and mostly her aunt) and uncle have insisted that she go. They also added that they would celebrate her birthday while in New York, so that was at least something for Claire to look forward to. Either which way, Claire had no choice in the matter.

So a few weeks before heading off to New York, Claire thought to familiarize herself with various places and landmarks of things where most likely they would venture. She browsed many informative websites and glanced many photos of specific things New York had to offer; for example, she assumed at some point that her family would want to visit a store of sorts near the Stoneheart building, and to Claire's recollection of what she read, that building is one of the second largest in New York. She thought that little tid-bit was rather interesting to her; especially so when she looked over pictures of it she found around the internet.

It was when she browsed more images of the Stoneheart corporation did she find something most unusual, but highly fascinating at the same time. She had to take a moment and averted her eyes dumbfounded before staring back at it. There, on her laptop screen, she had enlarged a picture of Eldritch Palmer: head of the Stoneheart corporation, and a very rich man from what Claire had heard. There- next to Palmer, was a very well-dressed man all in black, and it was this mysterious man's face that drew her in to the image in the first place. Claire hastily brought out and fumbled around with the various photographs she had gotten through her ancestry search, and withdrew the one of Thomas Eichhorst. She then compared images; studied both Thomas Eichhorst's features to the well-suited man in the other photo, but there was no doubt denying it: they were both one and the same person.

Claire's lips parted in shock. But how could that be? One photo was taken during the World War II era... How could one man look _exactly_ the same over seventy-or-so years later? It just wasn't possible! Claire scrutinized the images carefully and went over possible conclusions to this. One conclusion: it was just a coincidence that Claire's ancestor resembled another man of today. One other possibility, and one that Claire wanted to go on, was that... _perhaps_...the well-dressed man in the photo was also part of Claire's long-lost family? The idea was far-fetched, to be sure, but...it was definitely a nice thought...

Claire scrunched up her face as she pondered on this. She wondered now if the picture of Eldritch Palmer and the mystery man were doctored altogether. It was clear that the photo was taken from afar, possibly from a high-quality camera; however, Claire could see that Eldritch Palmer did not want to be discovered with the man next to him. At least from her perspective it seemed that way.

She didn't know why she'd become so transfixed to this. She should just scrap any notions and ideas she has and just get on with her life. There was no possible way the man with Palmer and the one in the aged photograph are one-and-the-same.

Still...would it hurt to find out if Eldritch Palmer knows of Thomas Eichhorst anyways?

Claire would be in the New York area, possibly near the Stoneheart building at some point. Would it be so terrible of her to find out if Palmer knows anything?... Even if the man in the photo that just _looks_ like Thomas Eichhorst _isn't_ Thomas Eichhorst...maybe the look-alike and the "real" Thomas Eichhorst are related somehow? There has to be accounts where the ancestry websites tend to get their findings mixed up and not know of other relatives...could this be such a case with Claire?

Claire scoffed at all this and decided to focus on something else for a while. All this nonsense was giving her a headache.

Even as the days grew closer to the time of the trip, Claire couldn't stop thinking about what she had found. And the more her mind weighed on it, the more it actually started to make _sense_ to _her_. The fact that the photograph of Thomas Eichhorst she carried, and the picture she found of Palmer with the look-alike Eichhorst: they have to be related somehow! _Yes_! They just have to be! The resemblance to each other is uncanny! There can be no other explanation!

That settled it for her then: once Claire was in New York, she would somehow visit this Stoneheart building and find out if Palmer knows of Thomas Eichhorst, or the look-alike he was with. She smirked at her own boldness to this plan. It's not like Claire would be living in New York and would have to deal with the repercussions of her own actions.

After all, what's the harm in finding out? What could go wrong?


	2. Hesitation

**Chapter Two:  
**

The day of the trip to New York had finally come around. The Wright family would be staying with two other families during their time in New York, much to Claire's aggravation. Claire was somewhat familiar with one family, the Pommels, but the third, Claire had never met them before. The Pommel family had two daughters accompanying them. Sarah, was the youngest in the Pommel family, and the same age as Chris, while Amber was just a few years younger than Claire. Claire and Amber have met a few times over the years, but they never really spoke to one another. Claire had always tried to make small talk with her, just to be polite, but Amber wanted no part in it. She was, at those times, angry and annoyed that her family wanted a get-together with the Wright's.

The plane ride over to New York was a long, and excruciating process for everyone. To wake up early to just get past airport security, and then to wait around for the plane to be ready was another tiring process altogether. Claire had her iPod playing most of the time, drowning out any noise and people that would otherwise cause her to become easily overwhelmed with anxiety and stress.

After all that- waking up early in the morning, going through airport security, the waiting, the plane, getting off said plane, getting the luggage, and making the trek over to the hotel- everyone was utterly exhausted that day to do anything but rest up in the penthouse of the Mayflower hotel.

The Mayflower hotel was located just outside of Manhattan, about a half-an-hour drive, to be more specific. The penthouse, which the three families were currently housed in, was the third largest room at the hotel. Oddly enough, the Presidential Suite and the "Apartment" were the largest. Claire thought the penthouse would easily be the largest.

The penthouse itself had two floors, consisting of five bedrooms and three bathrooms in total. Three of those bedrooms though were going to the adults, while the remaining two were to be split amongst the children: a girls room and a boys, and unfortunately for Claire, she was considered "the children" in this scenario.

The girls' room was fairly large for the most part, and luckily for Claire, there were enough beds for Claire to have her own. She would be sharing the room with three other girls, them being Amber and Sarah from the Pommel family, and then a third little girl from the other family, the Yates, Claire finally learned.

For their first day in New York, even though it was just all of them staying cooped up in the penthouse, Claire thoroughly enjoyed it. With everyone being too tired to venture out, it meant Claire wasn't forced to go out anywhere and face the noisy and chaotic cities. When Claire managed to get the girls' bedroom all to herself, she sat on the large windowsill, pressing herself to the window to look out onto the streets below. She still had those earbuds in her ears, iPod blaring to some of her favorite alternative rock songs; getting lost in the music and its lyrics. Her mind wandered to various things, which some of them being New York itself. Claire wondered if she truly would relax and enjoy the sights New York had to offer.

Then...the next day came.

Both the parents and the small children that accompanied the trip were abuzz with giddy and excitement to explore the different cities in New York, the first on the list being Manhattan. Amber and Sarah Pommel both chatted in hushed voices on the styles and kinds of clothes they desired. Chris talked with Uncle Ben on the things he wanted to see and do while in New York altogether, and the rest of the adults and children talked amongst themselves on the various things they wanted to "accomplish" while in Manhattan.

Claire on the other hand? She would rather have the penthouse to herself while everyone was out. She preferred being alone and having time to herself to reflect on her thoughts and things alike. She had told Aunt Trish this, but her aunt wasn't going to allow it. She wanted Claire out and about on the town, having a good time with the rest of them, or at least "try", in Claire's case. Much to Claire's chagrin, she pouted to herself and made no other protests about staying inside.

So the majority of the morning was spent in chaos, with everyone trying to be ready with everyone else on time and all that. The children squealed and ran around happily, very anxious to get out and explore the city around them.

Claire was also amidst the mess of people, but her mind was too preoccupied with something else to really care for those that continuously got in her way while she got ready herself. It first began when the parents announced their venture to Manhattan, and that's when it clicked within Claire: her ancestry search- the search that led her to find a photo of Eldritch Palmer, head of the Stoneheart Group, to be beside the man she believed could be or is related to her direct blood relative, Thomas Eichhorst.

She had weighed on this before the trip. Wondering if she should go through with contacting Palmer about Thomas Eichhorst. There was so much hesitation on her part. So much doubt. _Yes? No? Maybe? Maybe not? Yeah. Nope. Ugh Uh. Uh huh!_ Eventually, even though she was still in the midst of a mental conflict, she decided to make copies of the evidence she found, just in case she changed her mind about it all. Now that evidence was folded up neatly and tucked away carefully in her purse.

Since the Stoneheart Group was located in Manhattan, and that is, in fact, where the families wanted to travel today, Claire didn't have much time to ponder on the matter further. It couldn't be a coincidence all this was happening to her: the ancestry search, the trip to New York, finding the photo of Eldritch Palmer with Thomas Eichhorst...and now...she's here. Claire's here- right in New York- about to go to Manhattan where the Stoneheart Group is.

It almost felt like fate to her than just a mere coincidence.

Her mind was made up: she was going through with it. No matter how farfetched it all sounded, Claire was determined to see it through to the end. And if in case she did come out looking like some crazy woman, it's not like Claire would be in New York forever to care what the citizens thought of her afterwards.

The only problem she now faced was going off on her own in Manhattan without having to shadow her family or any of the other two families. She wanted to do all this without anyone finding out her true intentions. She couldn't imagine what her aunt and uncle would think of her for doing an ancestry search in the first place...and then following up on some "clues" to it. How would they react at this point in time?

When everyone was set and ready, they all left the penthouse and made their way through the hotel until they reached the ground floor. Once the three families were outside they all hailed taxis, Claire sharing one with Aunt Trish and Chris to Manhattan.

The car ride was pretty much quiet between the three of them. After Aunt Trish was through with her small talk- asking her children if they slept alright and whatnot- everyone became lost to their technological devices. Claire and Chris had their earbuds in, iPods blasting away to their favorite tunes, while Aunt Trish browsed Facebook, occasionally chuckling to some of her friends' humorous posts.

Claire, being against the car door, rested her head against the window. She gazed out with a dream-like trance, watching small buildings past by and have bigger ones coming in its wake. She wondered, if she somehow managed to talk her way out of the trip, would she have regretted coming? Looking at all the new sights while listening to her favorite music was definitely relaxing for her mind. The whole thing even excited her a little- going into Manhattan with all its extremely tall buildings and businesses.

It wasn't until the taxi slowly came to a stop did Claire fully wake herself from daydreaming, and quickly plucked the earbuds from her ears.

All three of them stepped out of the taxi and out onto the sidewalk, and in front of them, stood an extremely tall building; taller than any of the other buildings that they had come across during the ride.

Claire almost had to bend over backwards to get a good look at the layout and its structure, and it didn't take her long to realize where they were at. "The Empire State Building?" She said aloud.

"Yes. We talked about this," said Aunt Trish sternly. "We're going to take a tour here."

Aunt Trish spotted the others, having arrived beforehand, and the three met up with them close to the entrance to the Empire State Building.

Claire groaned, scoffing too. "I don't have to go along, do I?" She wondered sourly.

Aunt Trish turned to her. "I didn't hear you complaining about it last night when we all-"

"Well, I guess I wasn't paying attention then," Claire interrupted in her own defense. "I don't mean to sound rude...or, um, impolite, you know, but I really don't want to walk around the place." She started fidgeting on the spot, becoming more nervous as her aunt's eyes seemed to bore irritated holes in her. "It's just...it sounds kinda...boring..." Claire barely made eye contact as she added, "I'm sorry."

Aunt Trish was silent for a moment...before she sighed disappointingly. "Well, lucky for you, Amber and Sarah don't want to go in either." She glanced over at the Pommel sisters, who stood close to their parents with their arms crossed rebelliously. "I know you'll complain every step of the way...so, how about, while the rest of us take the tour, you and the girls can go shopping around Manhattan. Does that sound fine?" She turned towards the Pommel parents for approval, and they nodded.

Amber and Sarah looked at one another with gleeful anticipation in their eyes, but Claire still didn't care for the idea. "Can't I just go off on my own? I think I'm well old enough to."

Aunt Trish shook her head. "No. It's not like I don't trust you. I just don't trust the _people_ here. You never know what might happen, especially in a city like this. I'll feel much better knowing you're with someone while walking around."

Once more Claire scoffed her frustrations, and it didn't make matters any better when Aunt Trish added, "And I'll be calling you and Amber to make sure you're all still together, so no wandering off on your own." She specifically locked eyes with Claire on this. "When the tour is over I'll text you, okay? And we all can meet up back here." Claire and the Pommel sisters nodded in understanding.

After a few more pep talks from the parents on both ends, the majority of the group made their way inside the Empire State Building, leaving Claire and the Pommel sisters to their own devises.

Sarah was the first to sigh in great relief. "Oh my _gawd_! I'm so glad we don't have to go walking around in there!" Amber nodded in agreement, smiling with her sister.

Claire was never much of a leader; more of a follower, and that's exactly what she did with the Pommel sisters. Amber and Sarah wasted no time in crossing streets and wondering what Manhattan had to offer in terms of shopping. The sisters talked amongst themselves in excited, blissful voices of the various clothing and clothing stores they wanted to visit, hoping to at least find some of the ones they mentioned.

Amber and Sarah browsed many clothing stores in close proximately to the Empire State Building, and they did so with the widest of smiles on their faces as they went on their shopping spree. The girls sorted through dozens of clothing racks, picking out shirts and placed them against their chest to ask the other if it looked good on them or not. They did the same thing with pants...and the shoes...purses...earrings...and any other accessory one could think of.

And Claire in all this? Trailing behind quietly like a well-behaved, and polite person could get. She definitely felt more of an outcast in this situation, not wanting to clothes shop at this time. It's not like she didn't enjoy clothes shopping every now and then, she just felt there was no need for it. She had enough outfits to get her by just fine. If there was a wardrobe that peeked her interest, then she might consider getting it, but other than that, she was disinterested altogether. She honestly didn't understand a girl's obsessive desire to own every piece of clothing or shoes out there.

None of this was what Claire wanted. She had already searched up the whereabouts of the Stoneheart Group to her current location, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw that she was only a few blocks away from it. She looked up from her cellphone almost in a panic. She just had to get out of there and make her way to the Stoneheart Group building. It was so close, and she knew it was now or never.

When the Pommel sisters had hit a fifth clothing store, Claire knew she had enough of this and had to come up with an excuse to leave and head off to where she really wanted to go. She approached the younger girls, whom were trying on various shoes and boots, and stated, "I'm going to head over to the Stoneheart Group."

Both Amber and Sarah immediately halted their shoe exploring and looked at Claire as if she had suddenly gone crazy. "What?"

Claire briefly gestured to the clothing store's entrance doors. "I'm going to just take a quick trip to that Stoneheart Group building that's just a few blocks away." The Pommel sisters remained awkwardly silent. "I'll be really quick-"

"What about your crazy aunt?" Said Amber. "She wasn't lying when she said she would call us. She's already called us, like- what? Ten times already."

"Why would you want to go there?" Sarah chimed in. "What is it?"

Claire tried to remember what she read up on the place. "I'm pretty sure it's a place that helps charities and stuff? Or maybe it's other businesses and organizations- I don't know. That's why I want to stop by there. Maybe they have a pamphlet or something I can read."

Amber and Sarah didn't look like they were buying her lie. "Can't you just look them up?"

"I did," Claire half lied, still continuing with her excuse to leave them. "But I much prefer if I just check the place out myself, you know." Again, the Pommel sisters paused in silence. "I promise I'll be quick!"

"And what if your aunt calls while you're gone?" Amber asked. "What do we tell her?"

"Just- tell her I'm using the bathroom or something. I promise I'll be quick, okay?" And with that, Claire rushed out of the clothing store and onto the busy sidewalks of Manhattan.

She looked down at her cellphone screen, having already loaded the directions between her current location and then to the Stoneheart building. Claire gazed into the distance, watching all the hustle and bustle of people and traffic ahead of her. If she focused on it too much, it would overwhelm her senses tremendously, so she attempted to just block out all the noise and be on her way. Between the streets full of traffic and the traffic of people on the walkways, it made it feel like the distance was so much longer. Claire just wished everyone would move out of the way for her.

But Claire never felt so sure about anything right now. A part of her got more excited with each and every step she took, but at the same time, her mind was trying to cloud her with doubt on how ridiculous this all was. She shook her head to rid of these thoughts. No use stopping when she's come this far.

She can now see the building; it was just in her sights across the street. Her racing heart quickened even more. She crossed the street with a group of other pedestrians to reach the front of the Stoneheart building. Without giving herself any time to hesitate, she just sauntered right into the place, pushing past the large glass doors with much bravado on her end. As soon as her whole form was inside though, she froze like a deer caught in headlights. It was almost as if she had entered a different world entirely.

The first thing Claire noticed was just how out of place she was being in such an elaborate, prestigious environment. Everything about the interior screamed _'shiny'_ , _'clean'_ , and _'expensive'_. All the employees and everyone else nearby were well-dressed and clean-cut to perfection. Claire stuck out like a sore thumb in her hipster getup, and instantly she caught the eyes of a fee workers and security guards. More nervous than ever now, she wanted to curl up in a ball and die on the spot.

It was a "flight or fight" situation for her. She could feel the pangs of a panic attack beginning to rear its ugly head. A pressurized sensation was coursing through her body- suffocating her. She had to calm down. She had to calm down _now_. Taking a few deep breaths, Claire began reciting a calming mantra inside her head. She's come this far. There's no backing down now. _"This can't be a coincidence that I came here. There has to be some relation to the well-dressed man in that photo and the Thomas Eichhorst I found. I have to know, otherwise this was all for nothing. I-I can't. I can't back down now! You can do this, Claire!"_

With a self-reassuring smile on her face, Claire composed herself and strolled right up to the reception desk. The receptionist behind the desk immediately stuck up her hand, gesturing to give a moment while she took a phone call.

After a minute or two, the receptionist hung up and gave Claire her full attention. "Do you...?" the woman receptionist eyed Claire from head to toe, sizing her up. "...have an appointment?"

Claire took another deep breath. "Well...no-"

"You need to make an appointment if you want to speak with one of our-"

"I just- I know this is asking a lot, but I was hoping if I could have a minute or two of Eldritch Palmer's time-"

Claire frowned when the receptionist appeared to be repressing a chuckle. Eldritch Palmer? Having a minute or two to talk with some hipster-looking, young woman? The question would make any one of the employees snicker. "I'm very sorry, miss, but Eldritch Palmer is a very busy- very ill man. If you want, you can speak with one of our appointment age-"

"N-no...thank you. You see..." Claire briskly opened up her purse and fumbled around with its contents until she found what she was searching for. She put down the photo of Eldritch Palmer and the Thomas Eichhorst "look-alike". "You see- um...oh my God. I really don't know where to start..." Her mind was scrambling with so many things that she couldn't get ahold of. "I think Mr. Palmer might know one of my relatives- you see-" she took, yet again, another deep breath. "I recently did a search on my family tree, you see, and this man- here-" Claire pointed to the well-dressed man next to Palmer in the photo. "I think Eldritch Palmer has met with one of my long-lost family members." Then she brought out the other photograph of the "real" Thomas Eichhorst and set it down next to the other.

The receptionist was at a loss for words, and continued to stare dumbfounded. What _was_ she supposed to say?

"I...I know how crazy this all sounds..." Claire continued more nervously, and she swallowed hard. "But I really want to know if Mr. Palmer knows Thomas Eichhorst. All I ever wanted was a family. A-a 'real' family to call my own. I never felt like I was really part of the family I'm with right now..." She rubbed her arm and stared off to the side. Other people close by were starting to take notice of Claire and her outrageous story.

"S-so, if Mr. Palmer knows anything- _anything_ about Thomas Eichhorst, I would really appreciate it if I could talk to him, or-"

"I'm...I'm really, _really_ sorry, miss," the receptionist interrupted with the most sincerest of tones. "As I've said before, Mr. Palmer is a really busy man-"

"Then, can I at least leave my contact information for him?" Claire asked with desperation in her voice. "I know he's busy and all that, but if I could at least do that, would that be alright?"

The receptionist thought on it, and then nodded. She proceeded to get a pen and notepad for Claire to write on. Claire took these things and jotted down what was needed. "I'm gonna leave my name and cellphone number, and the hotel I'm staying at here. I-I don't live here in New York. I mean, I'm not going to be here long. I'm just here with relatives and friends for about a couple weeks and then I go back to Massachusetts, but...if Mr. Palmer can get in touch with me before I go back, that would be great."

Claire handed back the notepad and pen to the receptionist, and the woman nodded in acknowledgement. "A-and, you can keep those photos for Mr. Palmer to see. I want to know what he thinks if...if you decide to show him all that, that is..." Claire added.

"I'll see what I can do," said the receptionist. "I'm assuming that's all you wanted then?"

"Y-yeah- and, thank you!" Said Claire happily.

The receptionist returned a small smile. "Have a good day." And immediately following after, the receptionist began answering more phone calls that were left unattended.

Claire felt a huge weight leaving her. She did what she set out to do, and now, it was just a matter of waiting with patience.

She turned around and walked right out of the Stoneheart building with a huge weight lifted off her chest.

... And there was another part of her that just wanted to hurl.

* * *

At the end of the day, everyone headed back to the penthouse for dinner, ordering many, many pizzas to suit everyone's tastes. A few salads were also added for those that did not wish to eat pizza or were vegetarians.

While everyone sat upstairs in the living room, Claire went downstairs and into the kitchen to get more pizza for herself. She opened a few boxes, wanting the pizza that had everything on it- which, to her delight, the one the kids mostly avoided. More for her!

When Claire found the pizza she was looking for, she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped in her shoes. She instantly turned in the direction she felt the unknown presence. It was her Aunt Trish whom almost appeared equally as startled.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you," she said apologetically. "I just wanted to know how your day went with Sarah and Amber."

"Oh...they were fine," said Claire, continuing to fill her plate with pizza.

Aunt Trish crossed her arms and shrugged her shoulders, expecting more out of her niece. "That's it? Just 'fine', huh? Nothing else happen?"

Claire shrugged as well, nonchalantly. "Not really. I mean, we went to a lot of clothing stores. Spent _a lot_ of time in them...and that's about it." Aunt Trish noticed the growing annoyance in her tone.

"I noticed you didn't get anything. Didn't see anything you liked?"

Claire turned to Aunt Trish. "It's not that. I just didn't want any clothes. Wasn't in the mood to clothes shop. I have enough clothes."

Aunt Trish let out a disappointed breath, hoping Claire would partake in the "shopping spree" with the younger girls. "I'm sorry I called you guys so much." Claire looked in her direction. "You know how I worry about you and Chris, and- well, it doesn't help when you watch so much of those 'Law and Order' shows too."

Claire couldn't help but crack a smile on that last comment. "It's okay. I think Amber and Sarah were more annoyed about it than me."

When Claire walked over to the refrigerator to get herself a drink, Aunt Trish changed the subject, "While we were in the Empire State building, we got ourselves those special glasses to see the eclipse. Got you a pair too."

Claire didn't answer, but continued to rummage the fridge as if that drink of hers was hard to find. Aunt Trish noticed the rather downcast expression on Claire's face. Aunt Trish could tell that Claire wasn't the type to participate in events such as watching an eclipse or even the trip altogether.

"I'm hoping you'll come watch the eclipse with us when it happens."

Claire grabbed a cola and shut the fridge. "Yeah. Maybe."

"I am glad you came along with us to New York." Claire turned to her, somewhat stunned to hear her aunt say that. "I know you, Claire. Normally you would fight me on things like this, but...I only nag you, because you really do need to get out more instead of holing up in your room. You need to get out there and see the world. You're young. You should want that."

Claire fought back tears of regret. She knew her aunt's words rang true. "I know." She paused a moment before adding, "I am trying. That's why I came on the trip with you guys."

Aunt Trish took those few steps to her and gave her a firm, but gentle hug. "And I'm really happy you did."

When Aunt Trish released Claire, the younger woman looked into her aunt's eyes, something she rarely ever did without shying away. "I promise I'll try to be more outgoing during this trip." Her aunt smiled happily to those words.

"I promise-," said Claire with a little more determination. "I think by the end of this trip, I'll be a much different person."


	3. The Calm

**Chapter Three:  
**

 _ **"The calm (before)..."**_

Claire's cousin, Chris Wright, woke up just before everyone else in the penthouse, and slipped quietly out of the boys' bedroom to head for the kitchen. Between the small children on the trip and the ever-chatty parents, Chris preferred to be the first one up for breakfast, wanting to eat in peace and quiet.

As he went for the cupboards to grab a box of cereal, he teetered in place, still not entirely out of "sleep mode" yet. He rubbed his eyes and smoothed back some of his short, spiky hair before he attempted for the cereal box again. He poured himself a bowl- followed by the milk- and made his way upstairs to eat in the living room. To his surprise, he saw Claire sleeping on one of the couches in the living room, looking rather uncomfortable in the position she was in: all scrunched up with blankets thrown in different places on her.

Chris tried as hard as he could to not disturb her when he sat down on another couch, but the sounds of the fabric made upon sitting caused Claire to stir...and eventually her eyes fluttered open. The first thing her tired, blurry eyes noticed was Chris on the other side. "Did you sleep here all night?" He asked flatly, taking a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Claire sat herself up on the couch and complained, "I just...can't _sleep_ with all _them_ in one bedroom! It's just so hard to sleep when they snore- I mean, I _know_ one of them snores. It's either the little kid, or- I don't know her name- Amber's sister or whatever?" She groaned, putting her face into her hands. "I want to sleep in my own bed again..."

"Gonna be a long wait," said Chris with a mocking smile, taking another bite of cereal.

Out of the corner of Claire's eye, she spied her cellphone lying next to the couch. Her eyes grew wide and a chill coursed through her when she noticed that the little light in the corner of her phone was blinking, indicating she had gotten a call while she was sleeping. She hastily picked it up in eager anticipation, hoping it was the call she was expecting from the Stoneheart Group. She clicked a few buttons and checked the screen...and her heart sank; it was just a telemarketer or the likes.

Chris had watched Claire's excitement instantly become gloomy. Claire looked up and realized that he had been watching her the whole time, wondering what the whole fuss was about with her cellphone. "I- it's nothing," she told him, setting her phone down next to her. "Just thought I heard something from an advertising agency regarding a few pieces I submitted."

Chris blinked. "O...kay..." He really couldn't care less.

Silence fell between them. It was those times where it made Claire feel anxious. She began to drum her fingers against the armrests of the couch. She never preferred this "awkward silence" between her and whoever else was in the room with her. It only convinced her that she needed to come up with some sort of topic to talk about, or else the silence would continue.

Claire stared off to the side, and it was then she began to reminisce of Chris and herself of four years ago...where the young boy had confronted Claire about calling Aunt Trish "mom".

"Hey..." Chris peered up from his cereal bowl, wondering what Claire wanted now. "You remember four years ago when-" Claire stopped herself, not wanting to drudge up the past that reminded her that she really didn't belong in this family. "You know what, never mind. It's nothing."

Chris continued to stare at her, knowing there was still something on Claire's mind.

After a moment of pondering, she asked, "I know we're cousins and all, but do you see me more as your sister than your cousin?"

Chris furrowed his features. "What? Why you asking that?" Letting out a frustrated breath, he decided to humor her, "Well...I guess you're kinda 'like' a sister to me, but- you know, it's not like you're _actually_ my sister or anything. You're still just my cousin."

Claire felt a tinge of hurt from his words. "I...I see," she said sadly. She decided to change the subject by saying, "You know what though?..."

Chris grunted infuriatingly. "What?"

Claire smiled brightly. "You're still my Chris Redfield to my Claire!"

Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head. Because he and Claire had the same names as two characters from the video game series _Resident Evil_ , Claire always loved to bring up that fact every now and then, mostly because Chris and Claire in the video game series were brother and sister. Claire- the _real_ Claire, only wished that she and Chris could somehow be this "dynamic duo" in a world full of cruel things. She always envisioned something like that would be awesome.

"Seriously, will you cut that out!" Chris griped, groaning afterwards. "Seriously!"

Claire's smile widened upon his reaction. With much relief to Chris, the parents and even the younger children began waking up, indicating that their days traversing New York were to begin again.

* * *

The evening seemed to come so quickly to everyone.

Throughout the day, everyone decided to shop around the various stores close to the hotel. And throughout that day, Claire had kept close tabs on her cellphone, hoping for that call from the Stoneheart Group, or more specifically, Eldritch Palmer. Unfortunately, the constant glimpses of her phone only proved to be uneventful. With each passing hour, her heart began to sink a little further into depression. Perhaps going to the Stoneheart building was pointless all around. The more she thought about it, the more she started to think that she must of come off as some crazy woman to the employees there. What was she thinking? Eldritch Palmer supposedly knowing some distant and most likely, deceased relative of hers?

It's not like Claire expected Thomas Eichhorst to be alive and well to meet with her.

Still though, it was a nice thought for Claire: to meet with her direct-line descendant, especially someone on her mom's side. Even if he was a former Nazi officer, Claire would of liked to learn more about him, just for curiosity's sake.

After everyone had returned from their day of shopping and exploring, the parents took rest for a few hours before they all decided to dine out at night, wanting some time to themselves without their children present. And so, the parents hustled and bustled around the penthouse, dolling themselves up for a night on the town. The children were taken aback on how dressed up their parents were getting; they were really taking this night seriously, as if it would be their last.

"Please have the the kids in bed by nine," said Mrs. Yates to Amber and Claire, ready and standing with the other parents by the entrance doors to the penthouse. "Otherwise they'll be really cranky in the morning."

"We'll do," said Amber with a reassuring smile on her face.

Once everyone said their goodbyes, the parents left the penthouse, leaving their children to stand there awkwardly with what to do now. It wasn't until a few moments later that Amber suggested ordering pizza and other takeout items, and the younger ones couldn't agree more to that decision; everyone was beginning to get hungry. So Amber made many calls, ordering pizzas, Chinese, fried chicken, and then a few vegetarian dishes since Amber was the vegetarian one among the group. ... No one could imagine what the bill looked like for all the food they ordered...

Most of the evening was spent eating and watching whatever kid-friendly movies happened to be on TV, and not one of them entertained the older ones, such as Amber, Sarah, and Chris (but the child inside Claire enjoyed a few, not that she would admit to that to anyone).

Before anyone knew it though, it was after nine o' clock, and the little ones were far from wanting to fall asleep, and when Amber (along with Chris and Sarah) tried to insist that they should get ready for bed, the children stood their ground and refused, saying they weren't near tired and were having too much fun staying up late.

Amber growled frustratingly, plopping down on the living room couch. "So now what?" She wondered exhaustively, eyeing each of the three children heatedly. "They won't listen to us."

Claire stood up from the couch and sat down with the three children on the floor. "How about a spooky ghost story then?" The children's eyes actually lit up to the idea. "It's not a kiddy story either," she added in, attempting to make them feel more "grown up" about it.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "How's that supposed to make them sleep? Wouldn't that make them _not_ want to sleep?"

Claire scoffed and waved him off. "It's not that scary or anything." She got more comfortable on the ground and ushered the children to scoot themselves closer to her. "This story is about the Japanese legend of Datasushi. Have you ever heard of Datasushi?" One little boy shook his head slowly. Claire continued, "Datasushi is a creature who the villagers have dubbed a 'God' that has fallen from the heavens, but I think it was just an alien or something like that, to be honest. Anyways, this scary story starts a long, _long_ time ago, on an island- in a little village called Hanuda-"

"You tried telling this story to us the first time, and it was boring then," said Chris, cutting in. "They're not going to want to hear that."

Claire looked to him angrily. "Well, if you guys had let me finish, you might have liked it," she said sourly, crossing her arms. "What's wrong with it now?"

"Bo-ring!" Chris yelled out, and Sarah snickered to his remark.

Claire turned away, infuriated- and hurt. It was a story she had found one day when she happened to hack into the deep web once. It was a very difficult, intricate process to say the least: hacking onto the deep web. She didn't know why such a story was on the deep web in the first place, but she thought the tale of a legendary creature was rather fascinating. Unfortunately, when she had tried to tell her family of Datasushi and some of the lore surrounding it, they dismissed it, saying it didn't sound interesting at all. Ever since then, she had kept it to herself, and now, it was looking that way again.

Claire sighed dejectedly, shrugging. "Okay. Fine. I won't tell the story." She felt a tad flattered when one of the children moaned disappointedly.

"Well, we need to do something," stressed Amber, gesturing to one of the large clocks hanging on the wall. "It's going on nine-thirty."

"I brought my laptop," Chris chimed in. "They can watch me play _Five Nights at Freddy's_."

Claire scoffed. "Like they wouldn't be scared by _that_ , but they'll be _'terrified'_ from my story on Datasushi?"

"Freddy's isn't scary."

"To _you_."

Both Claire and Chris huffed at each other as a means to end their small squabble. Then...silence.

As each of the older children wondered just how they would get the smaller ones to bed, Claire brought out her cellphone...and an idea clicked in her head. She sprung right up from the ground and hastily went down the stairs and into the girls' bedroom. Everyone else waited quietly, wondering why Claire got so excited all of sudden. Claire returned no more than a few minutes later, and in her hands were two, small, portable speakers. She went over to one of the living room tables and set up the speakers to her cellphone.

"What are you doing?" Asked Sarah.

"You'll see," replied Claire, still fumbling around with a certain app on her phone.

After another minute of silence, the room was suddenly filled with music blaring from the speakers, and Claire turned up the volume to make it seem like the walls itself were giving off the songs themselves. A few of the others covered their ears until they adjusted well enough to the volume increase. "What the hell?" Chris complained, cupping his ears more protectively than the others.

Claire smiled eagerly at everyone. "It is a known fact that kids can crash down hard from strenuous activity, so I thought dancing to awesome songs would help achieve that." She then started dancing, and urged the three smaller children on the floor to do the same. "Come on! Dance!" It didn't take long for each of the little ones to join her, although with more encouragement on her part.

"Are you serious?" Said a sarcastic Amber, eyeing the dancing ones like they had lost their minds.

"Yes I'm serious," said Claire in between breaths. "Unless someone else has a better idea to get them tired faster." Amber, Sarah, and Chris looked at one another for any suggestions, but none had anything to say.

"These songs sound old," Sarah complained, partially, slouching into the couch more.

"Well, these are hits from the 90's- and they're not _that_ old. They're awesome!" Claire said happily, holding onto one of the children's hands while she danced with them. "And someone else has to join me on this! They need more encouragement from one of you guys!" She says this when she notices that the only little girl appeared to stray away from the dancing frenzy.

After sitting for another minute, pondering, Amber eventually rolled her eyes in defeat and slowly got to her feet. "What the hell, if it makes them tired..." She then took the little girl's hand and got her to dance back with the others.

While this carried on, Chris and Sarah turned their heads to each other, their expressions alone being their means of communication; wondering if one or the other was going to join the rest...but their non-moving bodies kind of answered for themselves. So they remained sitting on the couch, watching the others dance the night away.

* * *

About an hour later, the three little children practically collapsed into their beds, much to the older ones relief. They were also very much relieved that their parents weren't home at this time to see that it took them longer than they thought to get the others to bed.

When Claire, Amber, Sarah, and Chris did get the smaller children to sleep, the four pretty much went their own separate ways. Sarah and Chris were tired themselves and went to bed shortly after, leaving Claire and Amber alone.

While Amber had succumbed to drowsiness and decided to go to bed, Claire was now the only one that remained wide awake, worrying- as usual- for the parents to return. She would of went to bed herself, but thought to be the responsible one and stay up and attentive of her surroundings until the parents came back. She sat in the living room and turned on the TV, hoping it would calm her nerves. The first thing that happened to come up on the screen...was the news reporting of an airplane, located at the very airport she and the rest had come from to get to New York. At the JFK International Airport...with Regis Air 7-5-3...there had been a horrible disturbance going on with it. Listening more to the information given about the situation, Claire's face slowly turned to that of pure terror.

Months from now, people would refer to this day as "Night Zero".

 _ **"...the storm."**_


	4. Revelation

**Chapter Four:  
**

Eldritch Palmer sat near his ceiling-high windows, gazing out at the world below that he has come to despise so much over the years. He could never recall, nor did he ever, had a time in his life that he had enjoyed the outside world. His very ill, very weak, old body could not handle the environments and all its germs and bacteria. Everything around him had to be kept clean and pristine at all times- wherever he went. Even with all the power and money that he had, it could not make his body any healthier. The irony was almost depressingly laughable. All he could do was only watch- behind protective windows, of other individuals enjoying and living life to its fullest. How he loathed them and envied them at the same time. _But not for long_ , he had thought to himself then.

The Stoneheart building, centered in Manhattan, served as Palmer's main base of operations; and not just for the company, but for Palmer himself. Since he was mostly kept bedbound, he had a room built at the very top made especially for him. It functioned as his home, his office, and now an in-home care facility, much to his chagrin.

With whatever little time the world had left with its over-bearing sun, Palmer made sure to be up before the crack of dawn to watch the sun rise over the buildings. It was a sight Palmer wanted to witness, but would not be missed. He was more than ready and willing for the coming change that is to take place.

Palmer began to read the headlines from the morning paper, and that's when heard his private elevator in motion, indicating that someone was coming up to the top floor, where he resided. Once the elevator doors opened, he took a brief glance over his shoulder to see whom it was.

Thomas Eichhorst stepped out.

Eichhorst always made sure to present himself in the finest suits he could get his hands on. He had very high standards about his appearance. From the finest satin of his ties, to the best quality of leather for his dress shoes- overall, he was a very well-groomed gentleman; not a hair out of place. His face was broad with masculine features, and almost had a statue-like appearance about him. It was his peculiar skin that made him look that way. And whenever Eichhorst smiled, there was no kindness or warmth behind it; it was the smile of a predator. Calculating and cruel.

Palmer looked upon him the same way he felt about the people in general: loathe and envy. Perhaps more envy than the other. He didn't understand why he couldn't become such a being as Eichhorst has. To live forever with no underlying diseases- never aging. Palmer wanted that _so badly_. He would sell his soul to the devil if he could. ... In more ways than one, maybe he had. But why did he have to wait for immortality? He had done everything that has been asked of him so far. Never hesitating; never faltering at the slightest, not even the faintest thought of betrayal. Whenever Palmer started to doubt, he always pushed it to the back of his mind. Never wanting his "superiors" he was scheming with to read his postures as anything but. For now...he would let it go... For now, anyway.

Palmer never much cared for Eichhorst, and always dreaded whenever they had to meet in regards to their plans. This time, however, their meeting had nothing to do with The Master.

There was a panel situated near the elevator, and with a few touch of the buttons, the windows in the room were tinted to strain out any sunlight that shined through. Eichhorst did just that before he strode gracefully over to Palmer's side. Palmer couldn't care enough to greet or acknowledge Eichhorst's presence.

"Lovely sunrise this morning, wouldn't you agree?" Said Palmer, obviously a snide remark in regards to Eichhorst and his aversion to the sun's rays.

Eichhorst could only stare through the tinted windows with much contempt. "I'm sure it will not be the last," he said in his native, German accent. As he gazed onto the buildings close by, his look was almost longing; to miss seeing the sun in its entirety. Fortunately, Palmer didn't seem to notice.

"I trust the accommodations I arranged for you are to your liking?" Palmer wondered nonchalantly.

A gleeful smile cracked on the edge of Eichhorst's lips. "Oh yes, quite," he answered smoothly.

"And The Master? He is...fine with his settings?"

"It is only temporary. The Master will find a more suitable residence once the sun ceases to exist on the surface."

"Of course."

Eichhorst's piercing, light-blue eyes shifted to Palmer, grimacing. "I assume you did not summon me here for idle banter."

Palmer pushed his newspaper to the side, and underneath was a tablet. "I've gotten the most unusual message from one of my employers the other day." He picked it up and handed it to Eichhorst. "Do you know this young lady?"

Eichhorst took the tablet and peered at the screen. It was footage caught on one of Palmer's security cameras, facing behind the reception desk. The video that played showed a very distraught young woman speaking to the receptionist.

"I have never before laid eyes on her," Eichhorst responded in distaste.

He was about to set it down, but Palmer added, "She claims to know you." Eichhorst tensed at his words. "Says she's a relative of yours." He gestured a hand to a spot on the table, where slightly crumbled photographs lay. One was of Eichhorst in his days as a German officer, dressed in military uniform. The other was of himself and Palmer somehow seen meeting together. The last image upset him greatly.

"Where did this come from?" Eichhorst wondered, feeling irate.

"It came from the woman."

"Is she the photographer?"

Palmer barely shrugged. "Not sure, but you needn't worry too much about it. Our plans are too far in motion for anyone to compromise it at this rate."

"The _Jew_ will attempt to see to that," said Eichhorst bitterly.

Palmer let out a soft, amused chuckle. "He can try."

Eichhorst decided to let the matter on that be, and focused his attention to the other picture on the table and picked it up for better examination. He couldn't help but long for the days when he was a Nazi German officer; both admired and feared amongst the people. It seemed like only yesterday when he was enticed by Hitler's speeches.

While Eichhorst continued to become lost in his own reminiscing's, Palmer smirked at the German in the fact that he was able to "breed". "I didn't know you had it in you, old boy-"

"She is clearly delusional," Eichhorst replied curtly, eyeing the young woman on screen with more scorn than moments ago.

"Hm." Palmer didn't let his smugness falter at the slightest. "Are you telling me it's an impossible notion that you might have some spawn or other out there?"

Eichhorst kept silent, continuing to stare at the tablet screen. He weighed the idea in his mind. While he was a German officer during World War II, he used his position- his power of authority- to bed a few women in private. The prospect of one of those women actually bearing a child... The thought never crossed his mind at the time. He was an only child himself, so there is no possibility that he could have nieces and nephews running around...

"Perhaps you should pay her a visit," Palmer suggested, breaking the silence that was beginning to unnerve him somewhat. "See if there are any truths to her claims." He took his hand and pushed forward a piece of paper towards Eichhorst. "She wrote down her whereabouts here."

"I have no time to humor some girl and her wild fantasies," Eichhorst spat, putting down the tablet.

Palmer took the tablet back in his hands and scrutinized the image of the woman. "If anything else, she does resemble you somewhat; she has your eyes," he stated this more to himself than Eichhorst. "What if she is yours? What will you do?"

Eichhorst hadn't entirely heard Palmer, already making his way to the elevator in strides. A part of him could care less of some woman claiming to be related to him. Why should he care? ...And yet...another part of him was very curious. Did he really create this beautiful creature? To know that he can produce something so... _lovely_ in a world full of _mortal_ parasites. Is it possible she's telling the truth?

The elevator doors opened, and Eichhorst stepped inside. He pushed a button to ride it to the basement level. As he waited, he felt something within the palm of his hand. He peered down, uncurling it to find that he unknowingly took the piece of paper with the woman's information on it. He read over the contents: she wrote down her cellphone number, where she was staying, and the likes. Then, there was her name: Claire Wright.

* * *

 _Three days later..._

Claire began to think coming to New York was a terrible idea- not just herself, but for her family too.

Ever since that night when there was a disturbance at the JFK International Airport, and one of the plane's that landed appeared "dead"- and not just in a figurative sense: all the passengers were suspected to be dead on arrival! All some-two-hundred or possibly more! And what- they all died of carbon monoxide poisoning? Claire could hardly believe such a case, and when she listened to some of the CDC officials on the matter, it almost sounded like a cover-up to something more horrendous. What could possibly be worse than over two-hundred passengers dead? And why did only four survive? It was all too confusing and too much to bear for anyone.

And perhaps it was just a coincidence (and a terrible one, at that), but after the events that unfolded at the JFK airport, strange things have been happening. The first one that started was the news reporting on the the deceased bodies from the airport incident suddenly gone missing. Who on earth would take two-hundred dead bodies?

The second thing Claire noticed was that there appeared to be more "rioting" in the streets during nightfall- according to some of the news stations. Even though the penthouse was high up in the hotel, but Claire could swear she can hear faint screams in the night; screams that sounded desperate- deathly, even. She had never heard something so spine-chilling to the core; screaming as if it were their last breath...

Of course, to top off all the series of unfortunate events: internet, cellphone towers, and satellites in general almost all across New York have died. No wireless calls, no Facebooking, no Tweeting, and definitely no one playing Call of Duty with other players. Oddly enough, this news bothered Claire and rest more than anything else. The internet and cellphones in general were the main instruments that got information from one source to another almost instantaneously. It's been speculated that this was the work of a rebellious, hacker group. Claire has to wonder: who would do something like this and _why_?

With over two-hundred people dead and then mysteriously vanishing, street riots, disappearing citizens, and then the collapse of the internet and phone towers, Claire thought her family and everyone else on the trip would want to head out of New York as fast as humanly possible, but to her dismay, it did not deter anyone. Yes, all this ghastly news has unnerved a majority of the party somewhat; however, it did not falter any of their plans. In fact, Aunt Trish has been a bit heated with Claire on how the young woman was treating the whole situation. Calling her "paranoid" and that she was upsetting and bringing everyone down with her attitude.

Claire couldn't believe her ears. Hasn't her aunt and everyone been listening and watching the same news programs? How can anyone enjoy a vacation in New York when the most shocking and awful circumstances are going on right outside their door? Claire knew a huge part of their reasoning was due to the fact that the trip in general cost the parents quite a pretty penny, and they wanted _nothing_ to ruin their fun. Not the deceased. Not the rioters. Not the internet, and certainly not Claire herself. Unless the world was about to come to an end, there was no way the parents would be convinced of leaving, not after having paid so much to just get to where they all are now.

There was no use trying to win that argument. It was Claire "against the world", and those odds are pretty terrible to begin with. As much as she didn't agree with it, Claire would just have to suck it up for now and go along with whatever her aunt or anyone else wanted to do.

Because Claire had missed out on watching the eclipse with her family, Aunt Trish thought Claire could take the lead and go out with the rest of the children to a movie. Before Claire could even protest to such an idea, her aunt had already bought the tickets to an afternoon showing of some movie the smaller children would enjoy more than the older ones. Claire begrudgingly took the tickets, but not before Aunt Trish adding, "Oh! And can you stop by that little candy shop near the theater? Annie (Mrs. Yates) told me they have really great fudge there and I really want to try it. You'll be doing me a huge favor by getting it."

With that said, Claire and the rest of the children got ready and set out for the theater where her aunt had gotten the movie tickets.

Unfortunately, the tickets could not be used at any other theater than the one they were purchased from. Normally, Claire didn't mind, but when everyone had arrived at said-theater- taking nearly a half-hour taxi drive there- the theater was smaller than the ones Claire usually went to, and not to mention the outside of it appeared to be a bit dilapidated, like it needed some retouching up in a few spots around the building.

"This place looks like a dump," said Chris, his face scrunched in revulsion almost.

Claire sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "Yeah, well, this is the place where we have to go, so let's just suck it up and do it, alright?"

When everyone went inside the theater, they were greeted by a musty smell, as if the carpeting hadn't been cleaned recently. The Pommel sisters instantly put a hand over their noses upon instinct, while some of the others just flinched once the odor hit their nostrils.

After handing over the tickets to the ticket master and then getting all the treats and snacks from the concession stand, everyone headed for the theater room to watch the movie. Once the group found the proper row of seats to sit in, Sarah said, "It stinks in here."

Claire agreed. "Yeah, it is odd. I've never been to a theater where it seems so...I don't know- dirty."

Amber, whom sat between Sarah and one of the smaller children, leaned in towards Claire to ask to the general group, "So does anyone else hear screams outside at night?"

Claire and Sarah's eyes widened in response. "Oh my God! _Yes_! It's so hard to sleep with that going on!" Sarah exclaimed.

Chris merely made a face and shrugged. "I didn't hear anything."

"No...no- I mean, yeah, I do hear it too," said Claire. "I know New York can be a place where noises are always there, but...are screams like that normal?"

Sarah shook her head slowly in disbelief. "I don't...think so."

There was not much more to say between them, so while they waited for their movie to start, they all brought out their cellphones or tablets to waste time on. Some played games, while some others realized that their phones still can't make calls or text, and so, either grunted frustratingly or slouched in their seats childishly on this realization.

They arrived on time for the movies, just five minutes before it _should_ of started, and it wasn't until after fifteen minutes to Chris speak up about the matter. "Did we come to early or something? I thought it started at five."

Claire stood up. "I'll see what the problem is."

Claire left the room and searched for the closest employee to see what the holdup was with their movie. "Very sorry about that," one of the ticket masters apologized. "We've been kind of short staffed lately. I'll get someone right away to start your movie." Claire thanked him and returned to the others.

Unfortunately, it took Claire a few more times of complaining to finally get someone to start the movie up. In total, it took almost forty-five minutes for it to play, and at that point, just about everyone was about to give and demand a refund.

After that dreadful hour and a half of the children's movie they had to sit through, Claire and the rest of the group exited the theater, feeling very unfulfilled like when they had first arrived at the theater; even the three small children didn't really seem to care for the flick, and all throughout the entirety of the movie, they were very anxious in their seats and constantly wanted to be excused to use the restroom, just so they could walk out of the room and stretch their legs.

"It wasn't that bad...was it?" Claire wondered, looking at everyone doubtfully.

"Yeah, it was stupid," Chris answered, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.

Sarah started feeling around herself, getting more frantic with each pat of her hands. "Oh...my God..." she muttered, her voice rising in panic. Everyone turned to her, wondering what was wrong. "My cellphone! It's not here!" She squealed.

"Well, you must of dropped it in the theater- duh," said Amber, crossing her arms.

Sarah scoffed at her. "Well, I'm not leaving without it," she replied sharply.

"I'll stay with her then," Claire pipped up. "I have to go to some fudge shop near here to get my aunt some fudge, anyways."

"We'll just wait then," said Amber, shrugging nonchalantly. "It's no big deal."

Claire furrowed her brows, hesitant. "But I think our parents might get worried or angry...or probably both if we're not back soon, and I bet the parents really want the little kids back as soon as possible. It's like we really have a means of calling them and telling them we're alright or anything..." Amber appeared unsure about leaving her sister with Claire. "You really should call a taxi over and get going. I don't want to make the others worry."

Amber eventually rolled her eyes and outstretched an arm to call a taxi over. Once they were seen off safely, Claire and Sarah went their own ways for a short time. "You'll just wait right out here once you find your phone, right?" Claire wondered. Sarah nodded, and hastily went back inside the theater to find her phone.

Claire searched near the theater for this so-called fudge shop nearby, although she wished her aunt gave her a name to the place so Claire had a slightly easier time finding it. Fortunately, it didn't take long at all, being only a few stores down from the theater. Claire was relieved she didn't have to go too far from the theater to get there. She walked in and was immediately the smell of delicious sweets and other pastries filled all her senses with wonder. Along with picking up different varieties of fudge for her aunt, Claire helped herself to picking out a few other sweets for her own enjoyment.

Claire walked out of there a bit peppier and happier than when she originally got to the area and now made her way back over to the theater, looking for Sarah when the younger girl wasn't in the immediate vicinity of it. "Sarah!" Claire called, searching a bit more thoroughly. "SARAH!"

"Over here!" Sarah shouted back.

Hearing Sarah's voice over in the alley between the theater and another store, Claire walked there and saw Sarah standing in the middle of it, her back to Claire. "What are you doing?" Claire questioned nervously, wondering why Sarah would bring herself to a poorly lit alley of all places. It certainly wasn't the kind of place two women like them should be at night...

Sarah, holding out her cellphone, smiled with her teeth showing. "Look- look!" She pointed out eagerly in front of her; and Claire did just that.

Probably about twenty feet away from the girls, there was a man, slightly disheveled with his one of the sleeves of his coat almost fallen off his arm. He was staggering around, as if he was having a hard time walking- either that, or he didn't know what to do with himself. It was hard to see him more clearly because of the lighting. Claire wondered if the man wasn't in any trouble... He wasn't calling out for help or anything of the sort, but...she couldn't help feel that something wasn't right with him. Something very bad.

"He's so drunk!" Sarah practically giggled, bringing her cellphone out a little farther now. Claire narrowed her eyes sternly at the young girl next to her. It was clear Sarah was filming the man.

"Don't...don't film him," said Claire wearily. "I'm sure he doesn't want to be seen on YouTube or whatever other website you upload it to."

"Tch. Well, he shouldn't have gotten drunk then," Sarah replied sarcastically, not taking her wide eyes off the drunken gentleman.

Claire touched Sarah's shoulder. "Come on. Let's go-"

"Hold on!"

" _Now_!" Claire demanded.

"Hold... _on_!"

Claire dropped her arms as if surrendering to Sarah's actions. "You know what- fine! Film him- but you know what? I'm gonna call a taxi over, and when it gets here, we're _leaving_!" Claire told Sarah testily.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Ugh, fine!" She caved, just to get Claire to shut up.

Claire stomped out of the alley and headed for the curb. Before she even raised her arm up to hail a taxi, Sarah shrieked loudly from the alley, reverberating off the brick walls, intensify the sounds. Claire dropped her back of goods and spun around. "SARAH!" She dashed back down the alley to see what kind of trouble the girl had gotten into.

It was a sight Claire never wanted to encounter at any time in her life. There was Sarah, lifted off the ground and pinned to the brick wall by the man she was filming just moments ago. He was so close to Sarah; dangerously close. The girl was attempting to pry his fingers off of her blouse in which he had a firm grip on. She kicked her feet wildly at him, but they weren't connecting to any part of his body. She screamed again, this time more pronounced.

"Sarah!" Claire screamed again. This seemed to have gotten the attacker's attention, but it was only brief. His focus was more to the girl he had within his hand.

"Do something!" Sarah shrieked frightfully at Claire. "Help me! PLEASE!"

She was terrified- there was no doubt about that. Claire knew she had to get in there and rescue Sarah, even if she was terrified of endangering herself. "Let go of her!" Claire shouted at the man, coming up on him fast. When Claire got closer, the man, using his free arm, lashed out at Claire with such inhuman strength, sending her sprawling away from them and down to the concrete ground hard. Such _power_ this man used on her! He did not appear physical fit enough to carry such weight. Claire was awestruck more than anything by this. If she and Sarah were to somehow survive this, Claire was definitely going to feel the impact of his strength in the morning...

Sarah squirmed desperately now within the man's grasp, knowing her life could end at any given moment. "Please, please, please, please!" She sobbed loudly. "Please help me! _Please_!..."

Sarah screamed for dear life as the man began opening his mouth slowly. His jaw bones started cracking so he could open it wider beyond the limits of any human. It was now or never. Claire knew she was going to have to use more force if she was to achieve anything. Adrenaline powered the woman as she got right up to her feet and charged right at the man with all her might. She wasn't a strong person, but she managed to shove Sarah's attacker hard enough in his side, forcing him to release his hold on the girl; but not before striking Sarah at the very last second. From the corner of Claire's eye, it looked like he used his _tongue_ to hit Sarah- but...that's just _insane_! Claire had to be seeing things.

With the man out of the way, Claire instantly went over to Sarah's side; however, the attacker rebounded much more quickly than Claire had anticipated, snatching Claire's throat and lifting her up off the ground with unnatural ease. Now that Claire had no choice but to look her attacker in the face, her eyes grew wide when she saw the state he was actually in.

His eyes. The man's eyes were the first thing she noticed on him, and they weren't human. His eyes were pure black, rimmed with blood red sclera, appearing very animalistic and demonic. The skin on him was drained of any life and looked very translucent, almost as if you could see the inner workings beneath when one was to shine a light through.

Claire's eyes went to his mouth- his once human teeth replaced by razor sharp ones like those seen in a great white shark of some kind. Even his eyes now reminded her of a Shark's: black and wide, having sniffed out blood in the water. Again, the attacker's jaw opened wide, making the same cracking sounds she heard before.

Only this time, new sounds were heard: _THRUM. THRUM. THRUM. THRUM-_ similar to those a heartbeat made when listened to from a stethoscope. From within the depths of him, these sounds rode up from his chest, making headway to the back of the throat.

She clawed at his hands in a last ditch effort for her life, but the man wasn't budging nor did he give any kind of indication of pain. Claire didn't know what else to do. He had a firm hold on her neck, even squeezing it just a bit when she had scratched at him.

There was something emerging from his mouth. Something hideous and monstrous. It appeared fleshy, to say the least, but Claire couldn't make heads or tails to what the hell it actually was. At this rate, she knew whatever "it" was, was going to end her life; this... _"thing"._

She gritted her teeth. She refused to scream. Even if she wanted to, she didn't know how. Wasn't it supposed to be an instinctive thing in women: to scream when in serious danger? Claire didn't know. _"Do it..."_ She rasped in the back of her mind. _"Just do it and get it over with!"_

She waited for the inevitable. _"Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it..."_ But it never came.

His eyes widened, the sclera glowing more furiously than before. The sight reminded her of the eclipse just days ago. He stared at her intently with recognition written on his features. _**"You're...Claire..."**_ his voice was deep and hoarse. (Eichhorst shared his vision with the man, seeing through his eyes. Eichhorst could hardly believe it). It sounded very unusual to her, like it really wasn't his voice being projected from him. It seemed as if someone else was speaking through this man somehow.

"How... How..." Claire struggled, wanting to speak her mind. Wanting to move. There were so many thoughts, so many questions racing around in her head, but she couldn't say a word.

His eyes moved over her body, sizing her up slowly. Then he focused on her face once more. He brought her closer and inhaled her scent deeply, an action that caused Claire to shudder in fright. _**"The blood that flows through your veins...is the same as his."**_

Wh...what?..." Claire managed to wheeze. Again: so many questions, but can't ask a single one.

He cocked his head at her, wondering if he should just turn her there and then. But in the recesses of _his_ mind...he could feel Eicchorst's thoughts stirring. He could "see" so many things Eichhorst wanted to do with her. It was sudden- these thoughts of Eichhorst, but the man before Claire cracked a smirk on his pale lips, or at least some semblance of it.

He decided to drop Claire to the ground like a heap of garbage, and immediately the woman inhaled much needed oxygen too quickly, and ended up coughing erratically. Before she could regain her composure, the man hastily and swiftly took off into the night, sticking to the shadows.

Claire bolted right up in a panic, her eyes scanning frantically for the attacker, but he was nowhere to be seen. She didn't know if that was a good or bad thing that he was gone, but at least he didn't kill her or-

"Sarah!"

Claire rushed over to Sarah and dropped to her knees. Sarah stirred, groaning. "Wha- what the hell?..." She sat up, looking around herself in a daze. "Wha- where...where did he go?" Her gaze stopped on Claire's disheveled appearance. "What...happened to you? Did he attack you too?"

Claire swallowed hard before answering. "Yeah, but...I-I'll be fine..." She began examining Sarah. "But...I saw him attack you though. Did he hurt you?"

Sarah started checking over herself as well. "Oh, yeah... Kinda hurt too..." she lifted one of her arms, and there, they both saw a small gash across the bicep. Fortunately, it didn't appear to have been deep enough to have bled out. "He _did_ get me... Bastard," she grumbled.

"Did...did you see what he attacked you with?" Claire questioned. "It looked like it came from his _mouth_!"

Sarah shot her a perplexed look. "Wha? No way! That's just...stupid." She began to stand up; however Claire had to help her the rest of the way. "Whoa..." She staggered upon standing upright. "I don't... I don't feel right."

Claire did not like the way Sarah was behaving. "Are you going to be okay? We should call the police or get you to a hospital or something-"

Her eyes suddenly wide, Sarah shook her head vehemently. "No! Nuh uh! We are _not_ telling _anyone_ about this."

Now Claire returned the exact same, frantic expression. "Are you crazy?! We have to report this! We were just _attacked_ by some crazy, wild-man, Sarah! Attacked!-"

Sarah huffed. "Yeah! I heard you the first time!" She brushed herself off to rid of any debris of the whole ordeal ever occurring. "And we are _not_ telling anyone about this." Remembering that she had recorded some of the ordeal on her cellphone, the girl whipped it out and made sure to delete the video, wanting for herself to believe it never happened.

Claire scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. "Sarah... we can't just keep this to ourselves- I mean, this...it wasn't _normal_ -"

Sarah got in Claire's face angrily. "My parents will _never_ let me leave the house again if they find out what happened! We are _not_ telling anyone. We are _fine_. We aren't hurt. Let's just...pretend this never happened, okay?" Claire continued to stare at her doubtfully. Sarah narrowed her eyes. "If you tell anyone, I'll just deny it, you know."

Claire crossed her arms and turned away in thought. She made a fist and pushed it to her mouth. She didn't know what to do or how to handle what just transpired. On the other hand...would anyone believe her if she told everyone that they were attacked by someone...who didn't seem...human? If Sarah wouldn't cooperate on their story, who would everyone believe?

Sarah walked past Claire, breaking the silence with it, "Let's just go."

Claire sighed with a heavy heart, and trudged after Sarah quietly. They both walked out of the alley and by the street curb. Claire was even surprised to see that the box of fudge she dropped was still there. "Did seriously no one hear us scream back there?" She wondered bitterly, picking up the fudge box.

"More like, people didn't _want_ to hear," Sarah added just as sorely.

Claire and Sarah looked at one another, silently reassuring themselves on the matter. Claire was hoping that perhaps Sarah will have second thoughts about telling everyone, but the pleading expression on the girl's face said otherwise.

Claire turned back to the streets, sticking out an arm to call a taxi over to them. As a taxi pulled up next to the curb, Sarah coughed profusely into her hands.


	5. Resting Comfortably

_Chapter title inspired by: "Resting Comfortably" by Akira Yamaoka (Silent Hill 4: The Room soundtrack). It's really short (only 50 seconds), but so eerie._

* * *

 **Chapter Five:  
**

An old fashioned record player was heard in the distance. The needle scrapped along the vinyl, playing a classical opera from days long past.

From across the hall, in a poorly illuminated, circular room, the melancholy melody has reached the ears of a lone prisoner. She perked up in a most terrified manner. She knew what it meant, and that... _he_ was on his way to pay her another visit. The girl whimpered, not wanting to go through with this torture again. It was only a few nights ago when she was abducted on her way home from a track meet. She never saw it coming. All she could recall was her nostrils being flooded with the pungent odor of ammonia, and then...darkness. When she awoke, she ended up here: in a room lined with white padding. In the very center lay a concrete block with a chain on the end of it. The chain itself led to a leather collar, which was now around the prisoner's throat tightly. And on the other end of the room, to which the chain was also connected to, was a pulley system. It didn't take much for anyone to put two-and-two together, and that the pulley was used to drag its prisoner closer to the cement block. What exactly the captor did with all this, prisoners could only guess in the most horrifying ways.

There was also a lingering odor in the room the girl couldn't quite place. There was the obvious smell of bleach, as if it had been recently cleaned before her arrival. The other smell though...it was a hint of metallic. Blood?

For those past couple nights the girl had screamed, thrashed, clawed at her collar, pulled on her chain- did possibly everything she could think to do in order to escape her confines, but alas...nothing worked.

And in those past couple nights, _he_ made nightly visits to her. He would greet her with some small talk, which only fueled her dread of things to come. Then he proceeded with his own brand of torturing. After he had his fun, she was often left in cuts and bruises. His acts were not overly violent, but they did inflict enough harm on the girl to have her cowering in fear every time he entered the room.

Before his departure, he would present her with various foods for her to feast on. She thought it quite odd, for a captor to prepare food. They were mostly of the finest quality of fruits and a few red meats. He persistently demanded that she finish every last bite before he would return, and with that, concluded his daily routine visit to her cell.

Today though...it was different. She could feel it in the air.

The padding of the room made an odd scratching sound as the door opened, and in...walked Eichhorst, having a rather cruel smile on his face.

The girl screamed.

For the first time, she has seen Thomas Eichhorst for what he truly was: a monster. And not just in a figurative sense, either. He _physically_ appeared to be some monstrosity; a form humans rarely ever saw. At least...none lived to tell the tale of it.

His skin appeared dry and coarse, and was sickly gray in color. There was a space- a hole where the cartilage of his nose should be. His eyes had sunken in; the irises themselves were black with red rims. He had become completely hairless from head to toe; having it all fall off during his transformation to the new creature he had become: a vampire. A _strigoi_.

Eichhorst couldn't help but smirk upon her reaction as she took in his true visage.

And when he smiled down on his prisoner, he bared his shark-like teeth, increasing her already instilled fear.

He gently shut the door behind him to prevent any unwanted guests from interrupting, and began pacing the room; clasping his hands behind his back as his eyes bore into the pathetic little being in front of him.

The girl quaked horribly, and tugged on her chain weakly in hopes that maybe, just _maybe_ she might of loosened its hold in the past few days.

Eichhorst chuckled, enjoying her feebleness. "Your efforts are in vain, dear child," he told the girl a matter-of-factly. "Do you truly believe you can escape from here?"

She could only answer in whimpers and sobs.

He kneeled down, wanting her to gaze into his piercing eyes. "Do you know why I brought you here?" The girl stayed quiet. He continued, "Every once in a while I enjoy a cocktail...of the human variety."

The girl's eyes widened. She couldn't believe what she just heard. Was he...was he going to... _eat_ her?!

"Before you, I had the displeasure of partaking a security guard with abnormally high cholesterol..." Even his features had shown his past revulsion. Then, his focus came back to his prisoner...and smiled. "I thought this time I might enjoy a youthful athlete on the verge of womanhood."

This got the girl to cry out loudly, knowing what is to be her fate now.

She suddenly peered up at him with pleading, tear-stained eyes. "Please, please, please, let me go!" She wailed. "Please! PLEASE! I don't want to die! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! PLEASE! LET ME GO! PLEASE! Please!..."

Eichhorst seated himself on the concrete block, calmly shushing his prisoner. Eventually her cries of misery and woe died down to little sobs and hics.

"Tell me something about yourself...that no one else knows," he inquired with glean curiosity. The girl gazed up at him, extremely taken aback by his request. He gestured a hand to her, "Please. Indulge me. It is something I ask all my... _guests_."

She thought on it. A part of her wanted to be rebellious and defy him. Another part knew that it would most likely be a bad idea; in action resulting her getting beaten to a pulp if she refused.

Locking eyes with him once more, she swallowed hard before speaking, "I...I like to watch my older brother's animes," she confessed in a quiet, shaky voice. "I didn't like them at first, but then I got hooked." She sniffled and wiped her nose. "If-if my friends knew about that...they would...they would probably make fun of me; call me a weirdo. They hate that kind of stuff."

"Hm." Eichhorst was absorbing this information. "Might I ask: what are these _'ah-nee-mays'_ you speak of?"

"They-they're Japanese cartoons-"

"Ah, yes! I have heard of them!" He exclaimed. "I believe they are something the children are quite fond of viewing these days." After chortling in self-amusement, he became quiet...and leaned in more towards his captive. "Now, I will reveal to you something that I have not told anyone else..." The girl sat still, giving him her undivided attention. "Recently I've discovered I have a descendant: a great, granddaughter by the name of Claire. When I first heard of this, I denied it. I never considered I might have bared a child in my past life..." he paused to reflect on his own words. "Then by chance, this Claire happened upon one of my Master's children. It saw her. It breathed in her very scent, and have confirmed my suspicions-" He grew more excited with each passing word, "She has the same blood as I once had flowing through me. Claire is of my lineage."

Once Eichhorst had finished with his story, he stood up, straightening the dark, silk robe he wore. He gazed past the girl and onto the scraps and bits of food behind her. Seeing that she consumed most of what he brought her, he smiled wickedly. Her blood was now more than ready for consumption. _His_ consumption.

Eichhorst locked eyes with her, only this time, they were filled with an insatiable hunger. The girl had caught sight of this look, and when he took a step closer, she coward and shuddered with fright.

"It is time for you to leave this world, dear child," Eichhorst announced, his tone almost solemn about it. He turned on his heel and went straight for the pulley system. He began turning the crank slowly, and with it, dragging the poor girl closer to that concrete block. The crank made a ghastly _'clinking'_ sound as the chain was winded back into it.

"No, no, no! NO! NO! NO! PLEASE! PLEASE! NOOO!" The girl screamed at the top of her lungs as her body dragged closer to the block. The collar around her neck tightened with much force, causing her to choke and gag for air.

Once the girl's head was placed at the center of the block, forcing her neck to straighten out, Eichhorst released the crank and took predatory steps to her. The girl sobbed loudly, attempting to push her head off the block, but it was no use; she was held firmly in position.

"Fear not," said Eichhorst with feign reassurance. He sat down next to the girl's head, running his nails through her hair with uncharacteristic gentleness. "You will return to your family...but not as you are now." And with those words, he opened his mouth wide, and a large, revolting appendage shot out and clamped viciously onto the girl's neck, as a snake would strike its prey. The girl let out a silent scream, feeling the very life hastily drained from her veins. Her eyes bulged, and the muscles in her fingers twitched unnaturally. Eichhorst watched with sickening fascination as the pigment in her skin changed to that of his own grayish hue.

When he was done with her, he retracted his stinger and the girl went completely limp.

Eichhorst casually got up and exited the room.

"Auf Wiedersehen."

* * *

 _"It's snowing again..."_ Claire thought to herself as she peered out the large penthouse windows. She was seated comfortably in one of the large reading chairs, and while she actually did have a novel in her hands, her mind was too preoccupied to focus.

The whole atmosphere in the penthouse had changed. It seemed like only yesterday when Claire and the rest of the kids were happily and giddily dancing to the music on her cellphone. Now though...now the air felt..."stale" to her.

It hasn't been two days when Sarah fell ill, and with each passing minute, her condition only seemed to worsen. Her eyes have become very sensitive to light. She has trouble swallowing any foods and liquids on account of her swollen throat. On top of all that, Sarah is now bed-ridden with a fever. Everyone, mostly Sarah's immediate family, have been on edge with grief.

The rest of the adults have begun talking in whispers about leaving for Massachusetts at the earliest convenience, but the way things are looking, it might already be too late. New York seems to be in its own state of crisis now, and although it wasn't publically known or talked about on the news, the civilians were still on the alert of the hidden dangers. More and more random attacks are occurring each and every night, and with that, more people have been disappearing from their homes.

With this much chaos going on, major airlines in New York have all but shut down until further notice. If not getting out of the state by air, civilians have gone and taken rental cars to escape the madness. Anyone that's left behind is either too poor to leave, or too stubborn to. In Claire's case for her and her family, they just can't find any means of travel. At this rate, it was almost damn near impossible to leave.

Out from the corner of Claire's eye, she saw Amber and Sarah's parents, the Pommels, leave the penthouse, most likely making another trip to the drugstore on Sarah's behalf.

Claire got up and made her way downstairs and headed into the girls' bedroom to check in on Sarah herself. Much to Claire's relief, there was no else in the room besides the sick girl. Sarah was sitting upright on her bed, eyes fixated on her cellphone. Claire couldn't tell what she was doing, but all anyone can really do on their cellphones was to play games or possibly browse old photos and messages.

Just as Claire quietly shut the bedroom door as to not be disturbed, Sarah's head jerked up. "Oh...it's you," she acknowledged dryly, putting her cellphone down.

Claire frowned. "Well...hi to you too," she said with just as much enthusiasm, and she sat on the edge of the bed to get a better view of Sarah. Sarah had definitely seen better days. Her skin had become clammy and pale, with dark, tired circles underneath her eyes. Even though Sarah was trying to put on a brave face, Claire could tell the younger girl was suffering immensely.

Sarah got out a few coughs before speaking in a hoarse, scratchy voice, "So what do you want?"

Claire bit her lip worriedly. "Do you...do you think you got sick...because of that man that attacked you couple nights ago?"

"Wh-what?" It was immediately followed by Sarah hacking profusely. "Don't be stupid. How did _he_ get me sick?"

"Well..." Claire rubbed her arm with uncertainty. "He did cut you on your arm-"

"You can't get sick from that."

"Yes you can!" Claire pressed. "I mean, if it got infected..."

Sarah lifted up her bicep for Claire to inspect better: it looked exactly the same; however, it didn't appear to be infected. "See. It didn't get infected. I just got the flu, that's all. I'll get better." She sighed wearily and slouched further into her bed. "Just wish I didn't feel like crap..." she grumbled inwardly.

"Well, that's what usually happens when you're sick," Claire pointed out. "But I heard your parents talking about taking you to the hospital if your fever got worse."

"Ugh, seriously? They overreact..." Sarah sniffled deeply. She turned her head towards the nightstand next to her bed, and on it was a glass of water. She almost stared at it longingly. "Sucks I can't really drink or eat anything though. I'm so thirsty..."

Claire glanced away from Sarah for a brief moment, pondering wherever or not to bring up a certain subject. "You know...speaking of that crazy guy-"

Sarah growled infuriatingly, "Oh my God! I thought we weren't going to talk about that anymore!-"

Claire jumped at Sarah's sudden outburst. "I know! I know! This will be the last time! I swear! It's just...did you ever hear him...say anything?"

Sarah furrowed her brows suspiciously. "Huh? Like what?"

Claire bobbed her head, trying to figure out how to tiptoe around her exact point, "Like...did you hear him say my name...or _anything_?"

Sarah scoffed, shaking her head. "Uh, _no_. And how would that guy know your name? Did _you_ know him or something?-"

Claire held up her hands defensively. "No, no. Nothing like that. I guess...maybe I was hearing things..." she drifted off, contemplating now if what she had witnessed that night really happened. Did that man truly look like monster? Did he attack Sarah with a foreign "appendage"? And did he really speak her name, and so demonically? Now Claire wondered if all that had transpired...was maybe the works of an overactive imagination. _"Still...it felt so..._ real _..."_

Sarah thought to intrude on Claire's train of thought, "Can you go now? I like to go back to sleep. I...I really don't feel good..." The girl groaned miserably as she laid back down in bed, turning over to face away from Claire.

Claire got up and made her way out of the bedroom, but not before grabbing her coat and umbrella. Perhaps going outside will clear her mind of everything that was going on. She needed some air. Some _fresh_ air.

Clair opened the door to leave the penthouse, and that's when she heard Aunt Trish's voice behind her, "Where are you going?"

Claire turned around slightly to see Aunt Trish standing several feet away, a look of worry on her face. "If you're leaving, I don't want you going out alone," she told Claire. "To be honest, I don't want you going out at _all_. With all the attacks that have been going on around here-"

"It's alright. I'm just going to stay around the hotel area," Claire reassured her. "The attacks only happen at night, right? So...I should be fine..." now she sounded a tad unsure of her own words.

Claire could tell that her aunt was weighing this heavily in her mind. After a moment, Aunt Trish spoke up again, "Just... _promise_ me you'll stay close to the hotel." Claire nodded and opened up the door to leave, but not before her aunt added, "If you're not back in half an hour I'm coming to look for you, okay?"

"Half an hour. I got it," Claire repeated, nodding once more, and with that, she finally left the penthouse.

Once Claire was outside, she was immediately welcomed by that falling snow she had seen earlier. She opened her umbrella and held it above her head. Just for a moment, she took in the serene surroundings. It was all eerily beautiful. The snow practically blanketed anyone from seeing twenty feet in front of them. Luckily enough, the ground wasn't too cold for the stuff to really stick.

It was sights like this that made her wish she remembered to bring her art tools with her. She would of loved to have painted something like this; capturing nature at its most opportune moments is what she lived for, and what made her feel at ease.

Letting out a heavy breath she didn't realize she was holding in, Claire briskly crossed the street and headed for the small park just minutes away.

Claire could barely tell how far the park stretched on account of lowered visibility, but she did manage to find a bench, and after brushing some of the snow off, she sat down. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath...and then exhaling to ease her mind.

She opened her eyes and gazed off into the distance dreamily. She watched and listened as cars and pedestrians went on by cautiously down the slick roads. To her dismay, the bustling city she had known New York to be was hardly as it once was. With everything that has happened lately, there were very little people and traffic alike these days. It was all a very depressing scene, and the weather wasn't making it any cheerier.

It was quiet at the park, and even though Claire preferred her peace of mind, it actually unnerved her greatly. It seemed _too_ quiet for her liking.

After a minute or two of the quietude, Claire heard people struggling with each other in the distance. She bolted right up from her seat, her ears now in-tune to these sounds. Then the noises stopped, but not seconds later it was followed by an ear piercing shriek. Even though she couldn't see what was going on, Claire still ran towards where she heard the scream, but then froze on the spot. She became a deer caught in headlights. Her mind was now reliving those few nights ago when that man attacked Sarah...and then her. The horror that she felt was now welling up inside...and it came bursting out.

Claire dropped her umbrella and fell to her knees in despair. She curled up into herself and cried softly. She was so ashamed of herself for feeling this hopeless. She should of ran to the screams- made sure whoever was okay; tried to help them any which way she could...but she didn't. She was too afraid to _see_. Too afraid to face the reality that life as she knew it...

was slipping away.

Time had passed before Claire managed to compose herself into her right state of mind. The falling snow piling on her head reminded her that she was without an umbrella, so she began pawing the ground for it. It should of been right next to her...but it wasn't there. Panic was rearing its ugly head again. _"Where is it?"_

She became more frantic in her search; however, it was when she stood up and turned around...she had found it, but not in a place she was expecting.

There, now standing only inches apart from her, was a very well-dressed man; head to toe in a high-quality, black suit. His hair was blonde- graying, and groomed to his perfection. His skin on the other hand...it looked very strange. She couldn't quite place it, but it almost seemed... _waxy_. He stood several inches taller than her, and him towering over only caused her anxiety to rise. Eventually her eyes had traced along his hands to see that now he was holding onto her umbrella.

The two just stared at each other silently. The older gentleman, on the other hand, his eyes were very stern, as if he were studying Claire entirely.

Claire wanted to say something. Her mouth opened to do so, but nothing came out. She couldn't help but feel as if she knew this man somehow. There was something so _familiar_ about him, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember... Either which way, his presence alone screamed _"dangerous"_ in her mind.

He ended up smiling to how she was behaving. The way he smiled reminded her of a predator about to devour his prey. It sent chills down her spine.

Then...he spoke. He uttered one word. One, single word, and it was all she had to hear before it sent her running.

"Claire."

Something snapped within Claire. Her mouth dropped open in terror, and eyes nearly bulged out of her skull.

She took a few staggering steps back...and then she _ran_ as fast as her legs could carry her. She ran as if her life depended on it. She ran so fast that she didn't even realize it when she already made it back to the hotel.

She didn't even have to open the door when unknowingly collided into her aunt, whom had just exited the building to begin looking for her.

Aunt Trish instantly noticed the horrified expression of her niece, and immediately her maternal instincts kicked in. "Oh my God- Claire! Claire, what happened?!"

Claire's whole body was shaking vehemently, to the point that it had to be painful for the nerves.

"Claire! CLAIRE!" Her aunt grabbed ahold of her arms to try and settle Claire down. "What _happened_? Did something happen? Did someone hurt you? Tell me! Please! CLAIRE!"

Claire took a few moments to take in deep breaths. She swallowed hard, and then began muttering hastily under her breath. Her aunt listened in carefully. "He knew my name. He knew my name!" She cried frightfully.

Her aunt squeezed her arms more firmly. "Claire, who are you talking about? Who knows your name?"

Claire finally peered more clearly at her aunt, looked over her shoulder and pointed across the street. "Th-that man at the park. H-h-he knew my name! He knew my name!" Her teeth started chattering out of sheer terror. "H-how did he know my name?!" She turned back to her aunt. "How did he know my _name_?!"

Aunt Trish brought hugged Claire closer. "Claire...I'm just glad you're alright," she whispered in great relief. "It's obviously not safe out here anymore; not even during the day..." She gazed past Claire, scrutinizing her vision to see if anyone was there, but the snow made it too difficult to great distances.

She didn't see him, but he was still there. Eichhorst had seated himself down on the park bench with Claire's umbrella in hand; a content smirk on the edge of his lips.

* * *

 _AN: so...what did you guys think? I'm trying to get back into my usual style of writing/typing. I'm really happy how this chapter turned out. I think I always have more fun when I write about the bad guys; especially at their most evil._

 _It'll be a while before the next chapter is up. There's things in real-life I need to do, not to mention I REALLY need to update on some of my other stories. But I seriously do want to know what you guys think so far. Reviews really do help keep stories like this alive. Maybe it's childish of me to say, but the lack of reviews here make me think the story isn't that good(?) I don't know... Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter._


	6. Lingering Threats

**Chapter Six:  
**

Back in the day, the old Mayfield hotel was once quite a lively place, but over the years it became harder and harder to run the establishment, and even more expensive to keep it afloat. Eventually the hotel had to shut down one half of its building in order to keep it open to the public. This deadened half had been heavily sealed and closed off to intruders who would try to loot or squatter what is left of it. This largely deserted half had become the perfect spot for Eichhorst to call his own.

With the aid of Palmer's connections and money, Eichhorst had taken residence in the hotel's finest suite and filled it with priceless antiquities and furnishings to his heart's desire. He took great pride in whatever he found or collected, for it was these things that reminded him of his earlier days as a proud German Nazi Commandant. Yes, there are times where he yearns to live such human moments again, but now... _now_ he has found his true purpose in life: to bring a new order to this destitute world.

Even though Eichhorst was a cruel, calculating creature that thrived on the misery and suffering of humans, he somehow had a soft spot for artistry and the craftsmanship of others. A Jew by the name of Abraham Setrakian- or better known to Eichhorst as prisoner number A230385- was one such individual whose talent was woodcarving. During the time when Eichhorst was still human and an officer at the Treblinka camp, he had tasked Setrakian into carving his Master's resting place, unbeknownst to Setrakian about what it's true purpose was. Whenever Eichhorst had time to spare, he would watch Setrakian work with the wood that was provided to him. Eichhorst both admired...and envied Setrakian for the passion he had with his gifts. One could say that Eichhorst harbored some resentment and jealousy towards the Jew.

Unfortunately for Eichhorst, even though he was most content when he surrounded himself with things of pure beauty and perfection, he himself, had absolutely no talent of such kind. When he was a young boy in school, there were quite a few times he had stolen other children's art projects and handed them in to his teachers as his own work. For as long as he could remember, he wished he could create something of his own volition; something that would be looked upon with the same admiration and envy that he always felt.

Then, to his absolute astonishment...he did create something- or rather, some _one_ \- of his own flesh and blood: Claire.

Because of this recent and most fascinating discovery, Eichhorst took it upon himself to find out whatever he could about this Claire of his, from the time of her birth to the present. When he was at his leisure, he spent some of it in his suite, sitting at a large table going over and reading of Claire's life; told through written files and paperwork of others. Unfortunately, what he found was hardly scarce. Because of Claire's reclusiveness, and reluctance to venture out into the world, there was not much to tell of Claire.

The only thing that was substantial of Claire, and what Eichhorst relished in, were her works of art over the years. It was her art that truly spoke volumes of Claire. The table Eichhorst sat at were littered with photo copies of the paintings she produced. He stared longingly at many of them; each painting told of Claire's personality in life. He noticed that she liked to paint nature at its most scenic moments, and the colors she used were vibrant, but dark. He could tell by her brushstrokes, her colors, that she was a lonely individual; perhaps one that secretly longed for adventure, and craved excitement; also, she had a very active imagination. Eichhorst smiled to himself, envisioning these things about her.

Then, he came across a painting of hers that captured his utmost focus: it was a self-portrait of herself. It was painted about a year ago, during one of her college classes, where her teacher had instructed the students to paint self-portraits of themselves. The lesson at the time: learning to paint with lights and shadows, and how it affected the person's image. Claire was very shy to paint herself. She didn't want to overly exaggerate any of her facial features, and yet, she didn't want to seem "ugly" to whoever would examine the portrait. When she had turned in her work, her teacher had looked it over and told her to not worry too much about it; it was just an in-class assignment. Either which way, it gave Eichhorst a better understanding of her appearance.

Eichhorsts' first thought when he saw Claire in the flesh was that she was a vision of loveliness; a sight for sore eyes, as one might say. Even the self-portrait of herself didn't really do much justice for Claire, and she was the painter! He studied the painting of Claire, admiring the statuesque beauty of a quality that she seemed to have. She had her long, light-brown hair cascading over her left shoulder the day she painted, and Eichhorst appreciated that little touch she added; hoping one day he could run his fingers through and feel its softness.

The one thing about Claire that really grabbed his gaze though, was Claire's dark, blue-gray eyes. There was something about them that seemed so... _mesmerizing_ to him. It was definitely one of her most notable and beautiful features. He didn't know if it was the shape of her eyes or the colors themselves; he couldn't help himself but get lost in them.

Eichhorst had an interesting thought occur to him: wondering how Claire would paint a portrait of the Master...or perhaps himself. He couldn't help but smile to the idea of Claire painting the moments and events of the Master coming into power. Enslaving the human race. The entire world. In the back of his mind, he could feel the Master liking such a thing.

Eichhorst broke himself out of these possible presumptions, and decided to straighten up the papers he had scattered about the table. Eventually his gaze went to that of the umbrella he had taken from Claire.

His first introduction with Claire did not go as well as he had hoped. He would have to meet with her again soon.

Very soon.

* * *

The next day, Sarah's condition had gotten worse. She was coughing up blood. Her skin was getting paler and sicklier in color. There were odd, half crescent shadows around her eyes, almost as if they were beginning to become sunken in. Perhaps the most frightening discovery of Sarah's illness, was the eyes themselves. Everyone had noticed that her eyes were beginning to change completely. They were so bloodshot beyond belief, and her beautiful browns were slowing disappearing; changing to just complete, black irises. Sarah had also been complaining of headaches, sore throat, and ringing of the ears which were becoming excruciating for her to handle.

This sudden turn of events is what prompted her family to take her to the hospital urgently.

Sarah fought. God knew, and even Claire knew, that Sarah fought as hard as she could to keep it under control, and perhaps she did than most people who have come down with this similar illness. Unfortunately, she was too drained, mentally and physically, to keep up this losing war with the mysterious ailment. She couldn't fight it anymore.

As strange as it was, everyone in the penthouse gathered 'round the bottom floor as Sarah's father, Mr. Pommel, collected young Sarah in his arms and carried the girl out of the bedroom. Mrs. Pommel and Amber followed closely behind, clearly distraught.

Claire watched, having a hand over her mouth while her body swayed side to side worriedly. She saw the look of anguish on Sarah's face, and couldn't help but feel guilt wash over herself. Would it have made a difference if Claire had told one of the adults about she and Sarah being attacked that night? She wanted to speak out, right there and now, but all that would do was anger and infuriate everyone in the room because of her poor decision making. She decided to leave that thought alone...for now.

The Pommel family reached the entrance doors, and that's when Sarah's head jerked in the other direction urgently. "Did...did someone call me?" She asked in such a weak, scratchy voice. Everyone looked at one another for an answer, but none had one. Sarah slumped her head back, exhausted from the strain. "I _know_ someone called my name. ...I still hear them. Calling me."

Mr. Pommel shook his head uneasily. "I don't hear anything."

Sarah then groaned loudly, curling into herself in great pain. "M-my head. It hurts..."

With hasty steps, Mrs. Pommel threw open the door. "Okay, okay, we're leaving. You're going to be okay..." Mr. Pommel carried Sarah out anxiously with Mrs. Pommel and Amber walking out afterwards. Uncle Ben walked solemnly to the door and shut it behind them quietly.

Everyone remained standing in their spots, staring off at different places but each other. None of them knew what to say at this point. It was just awkward silence between them. Claire was lost in her own thoughts, not really paying attention to the quietude of the penthouse. Something inside knew she should of told someone about the attack on Sarah and herself, but kept her mouth shut about it. Because of what happened, she felt she should of been the one that had gotten ill and not Sarah. As the oldest one from the group of children on this trip, she was given the responsibility of looking after the younger ones when the actual parents were away. It was her duty to protect the children, and in her mind, she failed miserably at that. She wished she was stronger.

Aunt Trish was the first to speak, rubbing her neck to relieve the stress in her muscles. "I can't imagine what they're going through. I feel so sorry for Mark (Mr. Pommel) and Lisa (Mrs. Pommel)."

Uncle Ben took in a deep breath as a way to relieve his own stress. "I'm sure Sarah will pull through. She's a fighter." He wanted to give everyone a reassuring smile, but it never came. He couldn't muster it.

Everyone slowly began to wander away from the entrance doors, and that's when Claire felt compelled to approach her aunt with the truth about Sarah. She couldn't take it anymore. "Aunt Trish..." Aunt Trish turned Claire's way, a look of concern on her face. Claire opened her mouth to speak...but nothing was coming up. She didn't understand. Didn't she want to tell Aunt Trish what had happened that night with her and Sarah? It was as if Claire was on stage, about to perform for hundreds of people sitting just beyond the curtains. As soon as the curtains parted...Claire froze. It was stage fright.

"Claire?"

Claire's mouth barely moved, but still no words spoken. Then she raised her arm and dropped it just as quickly, to gesture whatever she had to say was nothing of importance. "... Nothing. Never mind."

"Is this about your birthday?" Said Aunt Trish.

Claire looked at her, puzzled. "W-what?"

The older woman crossed her arms. "I know your birthday's tomorrow. I didn't forget about that."

Now Claire was even more dumbfounded. "What? No. I wasn't going to say anything about-"

"You never let anyone forget when your birthday is near."

Claire let out a frustrated breath. How on Earth could her aunt think Claire was worried about her birthday at a time like this? Sure, in the past, Claire had always become fidgety and anxious whenever her birthday was nearing, fearing that someone or other would forget about it; furthermore, in Claire's mind, bad things seem to always transpire whenever her birthday was nearing or happened. Claire's grandparents (on her father's side) had both died close to her birthday one year and then the next. On one other birthday, her family had ran over a mother rabbit and a few of her babies. On another birthday, a freak storm had come around and ended up flooding their entire yard, preventing them from leaving the house until the water receded the following day.

Now, though, right before her twenty-second birthday, this horrible incident with the airplane and all its passengers dying...people attacking one another, ending up in hospitals, and even some of them disappearing... It couldn't be just a coincidence. It had to be the "curse" of her birthday.

It occurred to Claire that perhaps her aunt was mistaking all of Claire's nervousness and fears from what was going on in New York, to just birthday jitters. With a heavy sigh, Claire thought, for now, to just humor her aunt. "Yeah... Yeah, it's about my birthday."

Aunt Trish scoffed half-heartedly and put a comforting hand on Claire's shoulder. "I know the timing is inappropriate considering, but me and your uncle talked it over and thought to go out- me, you, Chris, and Uncle Ben- and eat at that little Italian restaurant just a few blocks from the hotel. Does that sound okay for your birthday?"

With all those things considering, Claire didn't have the desire to leave the hotel, let alone the penthouse they all housed in. Nevertheless, she gave her aunt a small smile. "Yeah, that'll be fine."

Aunt Trish brought a bigger, more reassuring smile and rubbed Claire's arm. "I'm sure things will be better tomorrow," she said, before sauntering away from Claire to go talk to Chris, or Uncle Ben about something or other.

"Oh!" Aunt Trish abruptly stopped in her tracks, spinning back around to face Claire. "I'd gotten a call from reception while you were in the shower earlier, and they said that someone found your umbrella?..." she trailed off, putting a hint of confusion on those last few words. "I didn't know you lost your umbrella."

Claire scrunched her features, trying to remember what happened to it. Then it hit her, her eyes growing wide as she looked at her aunt. "That-that man yesterday- the one that knew my name- he has my umbrella!"

Aunt Trish just stared bewildered at her niece, trying to piece together what had actually happened yesterday. She had Claire tell her the gist of it, but the umbrella part, Claire had left out. Aunt Trish rolled her eyes upwards in aggravation, believing she knew what "really" happened with Claire. She put a hand to her forehead, but it wasn't to check for a fever. "Oh my God- Claire. Besides the name-thing, did the man do anything else?"

Claire was taken aback by her aunt's sudden change in demeanor. "Uh...no, but-"

Her aunt groaned and crossed her arms. "Did you think maybe he knew your name because it was on your umbrella?"

"What? No. That's not-"

"Claire!" Her aunt grunted and shook her head disapprovingly. "Of all the- You're almost twenty-two years old, and you're still doing this? Did you think that maybe this man was just trying to give you back the umbrella? Well, you would of known if you stuck around long enough instead of run off hysterically. You're lucky at all that he was nice enough to return the umbrella here."

Aunt Trish then spun back around to head upstairs, but not before Claire shouting after her, "Aunt Trish! It wasn't like that! That man-"

"Claire..." Claire immediately shut her mouth, hearing the lingering warning in aunt's voice. "We have enough to worry about here without you getting us worked up about a man you think looks 'creepy'. Unless it's about _anything_ else, I don't want to hear any more about this man." With that, Aunt Trish stormed off, up the stairs and out of Claire's sight.

Tears were already welling in Claire's eyes. She was hurt. She had a sinking, almost pressurized-feeling in her chest. She didn't want to cry. She wanted to just suck it up and let it go. Aunt Trish was just severely stressed and scared from what was going on around them. Claire told this to herself, again and again, so she took in a deep breath...and blew it out to calm herself from sobbing quietly. She got her mind to fixate on something else other than her aunt at the moment: her umbrella- yeah. Maybe stepping out of the penthouse will do Claire some good; clear her head.

Claire exited the penthouse and stepped into the wide hallway of the hotel. The hallway on the top floor had no windows for light, but it made up for it by having plenty of lighting fixtures hung throughout the corridors, brightening any parts of the area that could be dark. Whenever there was a burnt bulb, the janitors were always prompt on taking care of it right away.

Throughout Claire's stay at the hotel though, the place had slowly become in a state of disarray. The hallways were slightly stuffy from poor ventilation, and the carpets needed a bit of cleaning and vacuuming from the dust and debris. What was most apparent at the moment were the burnt out or broken bulbs, making most of the hallway heavily dim and dark in most parts. The sight reminded Claire of an abandoned building belonging to gangs or the homeless.

The elevators to the ground floor were close, but not close enough to make Claire feel at ease about her trek there. She didn't think nor hesitate on it any further as she suddenly took long, quick strides to the elevators, paying no heed to one of the nearby rooms giving off an eerie groaning commotion just beyond its doors. Claire hastily pushed the button next to the elevator doors, glancing over her shoulder as if someone was preparing to sneak up behind her if she let her guard down.

The elevator could not hurry enough for Claire, and when that little sound chimed, signaling that the elevator had arrived on her floor, Claire dashed inside the metal box as soon as the doors opened. She pushed the button for the ground floor, and released a breath she didn't realize she had held up inside.

Once she reached her designated floor, she stepped off the elevator to the main entrance of the Mayflower hotel. Her eyes scanned the very large, spacious room, and was instantly reminded of the dark, stale air of the hallway she ran through. What once was a place that had many wealthy attendees and families roam the room, was now mostly desolate and quiet with some crumbled papers here and there in spots. If it weren't for a few workers and what appeared to be some janitors trying to tidy the place up, Claire would think everyone deserted the place altogether.

Claire approached one of the reception desks she spotted and employee happened to be behind. The woman at reception had bags under her eyes like she hadn't slept for days, and she kept trying to get some sort of signal on her cellphone, but nothing came through. It wasn't until Claire shifted around on the spot did the receptionist catch her out of the corner of her eye. The receptionist stood up exhaustively. "May I help you?"

"Hi, um, I'm here because I got a call that someone returned my umbrella that I lost." The receptionist just stared at her tiredly, trying to process Claire's words. "It's black... Has a cartoon character on it... SpongeBob, to be more precise..."

The receptionist looked both to the right and left around her feet until she found what she was vaguely searching for. The young woman reached down and uncaringly handed Claire's umbrella back to her. Claire presumed, under more "normal" circumstances, that getting a lost and found item back probably took a few more intricate channels to get said item back, making sure it was returned to its rightful owner. At this particular time though, with all the chaos New York was facing, the receptionist didn't really give a damn if Claire was the umbrella's owner or not. She wondered why she even bothered showing up to work anymore.

Before the receptionist sat back down, Claire wondered, "Did you happen to see who returned the umbrella?"

The receptionist sighed wearily, wanting Claire to just go away. "I don't remember. I'm pretty sure it was a guy though."

"Oh... Well...thanks anyways." Claire flashed her a small smile as another "thank you" and returned to the elevator to go back up to the penthouse. As the elevator doors closed, Claire swore- she could of _swore_ \- that from faraway back, seated in one of the leather lounge chairs of the hotel, she caught sight of that suspicious man dressed in black, staring back at Claire with those intense eyes of his. Claire's jaw dropped open just as the doors shut between them.

Claire pressed her back into the elevator wall, her eyes wide as can be. Did she really get a glimpse of the man she now believed was stalking her? It had to be her paranoid mind playing tricks on her. It had to be it. But there is one question that remained when she had retrieved her umbrella: how did the man know where she was staying in the first place? That thought alone terrified her; knowing that he was aware of her location. _"And how did he know my name?"_ As her Aunt had theorized, that Claire's name was somewhere on the umbrella, but there wasn't. So how _did_ the man know her name...and her current whereabouts?

The elevator doors reopened themselves, startling Claire out of her worriment. She didn't even realize that the elevator had reached the top floor. Nevertheless, all she wanted was to return to the safety of the penthouse. It was the only place she believed to be safe for the time being.

Claire stepped off the elevator, but before she even took a few steps away from it, a rustling from one of the darkened corners of the hallway grabbed her attention.

She stared at it, keeping herself still and ears alerted to any other noises it might give. It was definitely a person curled up in the corner, or at least it was the outlines of a person. Taking a quiet step closer, Claire could see it was a gentleman dressed in a business suit, or what remained of one since it appeared tattered and torn in a few places like he had been in a scuffle of sorts recently. The man twitched unnaturally, his arms hugging his body as if shivering or in pain.

She didn't want to care, knowing what kind of danger she could put herself in, but she couldn't help herself to be concerned about this individual before her. "S-sir..." the young woman tried in a soft voice, approaching him cautiously. "Are you...okay? I can go get help if you-"

The man's eyes instantly opened, causing Claire to jump in shock. She backed herself away as the man slowly and groggily managed to get himself standing. He took his own drunken-like steps towards her, and it was then in better lighting could Claire see the horror she was presented with. His eyes were almost entirely black, save for the redness that rimmed around the large pupils. His skin was very sickly and translucent in appearance, almost like one could see through it if they observed more closely. Even with all that, what truly terrified Claire was the red around his mouth, trickling down the sides and plopping on the already dirty carpet. There was no mistaken it, that the color and texture of this fluid was blood.

The man looked onto Claire with an almost longing in his eyes; confused even. She recognized this look. Her mind flashed to that night when she and Sarah were attacked by a crazed man, having the same disheveled appearance and eyes just as the man before her now. Claire let out a frightened breath as she spun around and sprinted down the hallway as fast as she could. She reached the penthouse doors not soon enough and slid her cardkey in the reader and practically burst inside, shutting the doors hastily behind her.

"Jesus, Claire! Are you alright?"

It was Uncle Ben's astounded voice, but Claire didn't turn back to him right away. She peered out the little peephole to see if she had been followed by the man. She waited a moment, seeing if his figure would walk on by...but nothing. The coast was clear, and Claire let out a sigh of relief, turning to Uncle Ben whom had walked up to her.

"What happened? Who're you looking for?" Uncle Ben wondered with great concern, peeking out the peephole himself to see what Claire was looking for.

"It-It's nothing," said Claire, trying to regain normalcy in her tone. "I thought someone was following me...but it's nothing."

Uncle Ben rubbed the back of his head and scoffed. "You sure had me scared there! Don't do that again, alright?" Claire nodded in understanding. Uncle Ben patted her back out of comfort and then left her by the entrance doors.

Claire breathed in and out heavily, clutching the umbrella she had forgotten were even in her hands. She sauntered over to the girls' bedroom and shut the door, relieved no one else was in the room with her. All she wanted now was to be alone. She tossed her umbrella onto the bed and sat on the edge of it. After a minute of sitting there, she heard a distant scream from outside. It was then did she lean forward, burying her face in her hands.

It was Claire's birthday tomorrow, that much was apparent to her.

She prayed. That night she truly did kneel down and pray from the bottom of her heart, that everything would go back to normal, and that this whole nightmare would end.

* * *

 _AN: since I couldn't send you a message to the person whom reviewed this story last (reviewed as "Guest"), I'll answer for you here:_

 _Thank you so much for reviewing! And for the fact that Claire can be a bit "odd"; acting a bit younger than her age...that was intentional, I'm afraid. ^^; I guess it wasn't hinted enough, and that's my fault, but Claire has... "issues" being social with others, which is why I brought up the fact that she was a reclusive type of person. And besides that fact, I personally have met and seen people who act immature despite their age. And as for the aunt not wanting Claire to roam around New York by herself, it's because the aunt is supposed to be a "worry-wart" type. And since Claire is a timid, reclusive person, it just makes her aunt even more worried about her, I guess(?)_

 _Anyways, I hope that answers some things for you._

 _And thanks to all those few who have reviewed! I know I haven't messaged all of you, but I have read what you wrote, and I do appreciate the feedback! It means a lot to me. :)_


	7. At Long Last

**Chapter Seven:  
**

The Master has eyes everywhere. There is not one stone that will go unturned to him.

He sees _everything_.

So why does Thomas Eichhorst, his most loyal and diligent servant, feel the need to approach the Master in the matters of his recently discovered "Dear One"?

No. She wasn't "dear" to him. Eichhorst did not love her. He did not feel any kind of affection for this pathetic and weak pig. She only carried the same blood as he once did, and this, disturbs and upsets Eichhorst greatly. He wants her. He _needs_ her...to turn; to become one of them. For these creatures, they could not- _cannot_ , be _complete_ unless all in their bloodline had the same strain of worms as The Master. This desire could only be compared on levels to one in which they wished to drape themselves in the skin of those they had cut; to be "one" with them.

Eichhorst wanted her to be one with him.

The Master waited, deep underground of a processing plant, for the arrival of his elite servant; waiting quietly, ever-so patiently.

After some time, Eichhorst made his appearance and stood before his master. He observed The Master with concern and worriment twinkling in his eyes. The Master had recently come out of an attack by a group of rebellious humans, led by none other than their enemy- the _Jew_ , Abraham Setrakian. They had forced The Master out into the sunlight, damaging the king vampire tenfold- but alas, did not kill him. They underestimated him. The sun's rays may kill any of the lesser creatures instantly, but not The Master. He can endure much more than the rest. He cannot be destroyed as easily. _Foolish humans_.

Even though the sunlight didn't kill The Master; however, it still did tremendous damage to his body. His marble skin began rotting away, either peeling or falling off his body entirely. The pieces that still lingered...the ones that refused to fall, The Master plucked them off himself and let them plop to the ground. The skin revealed diseased muscle and tissue underneath, with infectious worms coursing nearly to the surface.

Eichhorst approached The Master, kneeling before him as if in the presence of great royalty. " _Mein Meister_. My liege," Eichhorst spoke breathlessly, bowing his head respectfully.

The Master spoke to him; his voice deep and hoarse, laced with an ancient accent of unknown origins, "Eichhorst," He peered down at Eichhorst, the sclera of his eyes glowing brightly. "I know what it is you hunger for..." He paused a moment, looking into Eichhorst's mind of recent memories he had attained. And through those particular thoughts, The Master "saw" Claire. "The female..."

The body, whom The Master resided in, Jusef Sardu, he too, had Dear Ones. Even though The Master had slain all of Sardu's famiy, they were not the only ones Sardu took great kindness and care in: the children. In the village where Sardu lived, the small children always greeted him warmly and happily. He cherished every moment with them as if they were his own family. It was sad to say they treated him better than any of his real family did.

The Master, in Jusef Sardu's body, would swiftly and silently kidnap the children in the night, and did so without the little ones ever making a sound. He drank from them; hungrily and greedily, like he always has. He was almost tempted to keep them around- to make them his Dear Ones. But The Master's consciousness in Sardu...he denied that right. Once he had his fill of the children, he twisted off their heads- their fragile bones making quick work of it. He did not want them turning. The Master wanted no part in loved ones returning from the dead to stand by his side. He didn't want to feel the "need" of them.

And so, The Master stared down with his cold, animalistic eyes, wondering why Eichhorst would want this. The Master- he too couldn't help but become a bit taken aback by the revelation of the former Nazi Commandant having someone of his bloodline come forth and reveal themselves. He had read Eichhorst's thoughts. The Master could feel the German's interests peeking, and then the _revulsion_ of knowing that _she_ existed. It was a thorn in Eichhorst's side. It was a scar on his skin that would never heal. It was a cancer that would never leave. It was a needy child ever-clinging to its mother's leg. To want something, then to despise it at the same time, was definitely a sickness in itself for Eichhorst, like a human's addiction to alcohol, cigarettes, or junk food.

So why did Eichhorst desire for the descendent he never knew? It was still a conundrum- even to him. Perhaps it stemmed from pride that he was able to produce an offspring in the first place. Perhaps it was the fact that she, in this dying world, would be the last of his bloodline, and not because the world was slowing turning. She would be the last and true "Eichhorst".

Remaining on one knee, Eichhorst said, "I wish to have her at my side."

"You desire to make her your own..."

Eichhorst lifted his head to The Master. "Yes..." he said anxiously. "I want to make her my servant. My...acolyte..."

The Master titled his head ever so slightly, studying Eichhorst. He wondered if he should promise this particular female to the German. The young woman in question had no defining traits about her, other than the art she produced. She served no real purpose in The Master's new world. In The Master's eyes, she would merely just be a "trophy" of sorts to Eichhorst. The Master didn't see why he couldn't offer this small gesture to Eichhorst, for all his loyal servitude.

"Yes, Eichhorst..." The Master replied. "You may have the female...to do with as you see fit."

* * *

It was a dreary day on Claire's birthday, as with all the other days. The other family that stayed in the penthouse, the Yates, have taken off sometime during the wee hours of the morning. They didn't mention or even leave a note as to where they were going. One can only assume they were going to try and make their way out of New York by any means possible. This angered Claire somewhat; the family having taken off without regards to her own family or the others. In the back of her mind though, she knew why they did this: it was every man for himself at this rate- or in this case, every _family_ for themselves. The Yates family had small children they needed to think of first and foremost before anyone else. In a way...Claire couldn't blame them for doing what they did.

During the day, the Wright family stopped by the hospital where Sarah Pommel had been admitted. The state of the hospital put Claire on edge. There was so much chaos within its walls. So many sick patients. So many injured patients. So many families waiting to be helped or waiting for news of a loved one. The worst part of it all: there were so-few doctors and nurses attending to all these people.

Ever since the doctors and nurses had brought Sarah in through the depths of their facility, the Pommel family had not heard a word about her condition. Once in a while, a doctor or nurse would come out to tell them that Sarah was in critical condition and could not have visitors at this time.

"No one will tell us anything," said Mr. Pommel mournfully, continuing to comfort his wife and oldest daughter sitting on either side of him. "We haven't heard from them since early this morning."

Claire and the rest of her family stood out in the waiting room with the Pommel family, with Aunt Trish and Uncle Ben trying as hard as they could to console their closest friends.

"They didn't tell you anything? About what's wrong with Sarah?" Uncle Ben wondered, partially skeptical about the situation.

Mrs. Pommel scoffed loudly, kneeling forward to rest her arms on her legs. "We don't know what the hell's going on, or if she's even okay," She sniffled, holding back more tears from coming forth.

Claire just watched them silently, looking down on them with sympathy...and guilt.

Mr. Pommel straightened himself in an attempt on regaining some semblance of sanity. "Lisa and I talked it over, and decided she's going to take Amber back home. We have a friend here who might help getting us across the state border."

The Wright's looked on to them with astonished expressions. "You found a way out of here?" Aunt Trish asked.

Mr. Pommel looked at her. "Yeah. We didn't even know he was here. We ran into each other here while waiting for Sarah. God- it's almost like a miracle we found each other of all places..." He sighed deeply. "Anyways, Amber wants to get some of her things back at the penthouse before she goes..."

Aunt Trish turned to Claire. "Maybe you can go with Amber to help her out?"

Claire shot a wide-eyed stare at her aunt, indicating she did not want to do this.

Aunt Trish hastily took Claire over to the corner of the room, out of earshot. "Maybe you can try talking to Amber," she told Claire quietly. "I think she really needs someone to talk to."

Claire crossed her arms defensively. "And how is talking with me going to help? I barely even know her."

Aunt Trish scoffed. "I don't know, Claire. Just go and help her pack- that's all I'm asking. And after that's said and done, when you see Amber off in a taxi, we can all meet up at that Italian restaurant we talked about." Claire remained with her arms crossed, staring past her aunt. "Please, Claire. Do this for me."

Claire let out a defeated sigh, not wanting to disappoint her aunt. "Okay."

Aunt Trish placed a hand against Claire's face, and it was then she noticed that tears were welling in her eyes. "Hey, hey, hey... What's the matter?"

Claire sniffled, peering into her aunt's eyes. "I just...don't want to be away from you guys...," she confessed in a sobbing voice, wiping one of her eyes. "That's all, you know. With everything that's going on."

"You'll be fine, Claire," Aunt Trish reassured her warmly, smiling. "Ben and I just want to stick around and ask them about that friend of theirs, and I'm sure it'll make them feel better if Amber didn't go back to the penthouse alone." Claire wiped another lingering tear away. "And I want us all to get out of here as soon as possible. If Mark and Lisa know someone that can do that, Ben and I really need to know if they can help us." Claire eventually nodded in understanding.

Aunt Trish hugged Claire tightly, and Claire did the same. It was childish and pathetic on her part, but at these times of crisis, Claire felt some semblance of self and security when she was nearest to those she cared for the most. Being with her aunt and uncle, and even Chris- being with them made her feel safe; made her feel whole.

Aunt Trish let out a breath, tapping Claire's shoulder to let go. "You're going to see me again. I promise."

Claire stifled more tears. She took her aunt's words for it, but somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind...she felt a horrible dread wash over her of things to come...

When they released each other, Claire said her farewells for the time being, and after watching Amber talk amongst her parents for a minute, the girls then left the hospital and got into the next available taxi.

The car ride, although somewhat of a short distance from the hospital to the hotel, was definitely a depressing one. Claire gazed out the window, and what once were streets packed full of all kinds of vehicles...what once were sidewalks and crosswalks full of hustle and bustle of all kinds of people...was virtually gone. Now what mostly remained were huddled, scared individuals quickly scurrying off from one place to another, almost like rats. There were people with sick masks across their faces, obviously to protect themselves from whatever ailment has struck the others. Some stores were looted. Some stores closed permanently, while others remained courageous to keep them opened to the public.

The sight reminded Claire of a few pandemic movies that she watched some years ago. A disease, starting from one, small "thing", and then sweeps across the globe, sending everyone and everything into a state of turmoil. Claire wondered if those movies were now coming true right before her eyes.

Claire looked over at Amber. Before the epidemic started, Amber took great care of her appearance, more than Claire did of herself. Amber's long, blonde hair was always curled and styled to perfection. Even the outfits she choose always accommodated to the weather and how she felt. Now...she almost looked the complete opposite of her former self. Amber's hair was matted and dirty, obviously haven't showered since the day Sarah was admitted. All around, Amber didn't care anymore how she presented herself to anyone, and it showed.

Claire stared ahead, her eyes darting to little things all around the taxi; ultimately trying to think of what to say to Amber in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Everything's just...so _surreal_ now, don't you-"

"Don't!" Amber instantly shot up her hands to shut up Claire. Amber took a few deep breaths in order to keep herself from breaking down in front of her. "Just...don't, okay? I know what you're trying to do, so just...don't."

Claire turned away from Amber, sighing quietly. "I...I am sorry though."

Amber ended up propping her elbow against the door and rested her head in her hand. It remained silent like this between them for the rest of the ride.

Once the taxi stopped in front of the hotel, Claire payed the faire and got out with Amber. The two made their way into the establishment and immediately headed for the elevators. And good thing too, because the hotel was appearing emptier and deserted with each passing day, and the more they lingered in the now dim rooms of the place, the more nervous it made Claire. She figured that their chances of being attacked probably increased exponentially since they first arrived.

When they got to the penthouse floor and stepped off the elevator, Amber continued on ahead while Claire's eyes went to one of the corners of the hall. It was there that she encountered that strange... _man_ the other day; disheveled and sickly in appearance. To her, he resembled what once was a human being. In the spot where he was crouched, there were traces of the blood he dripped, dried and staining the carpet.

Claire snapped out of her reminiscence, and she finally noticed that Amber wasn't stopping for her, so Claire quickly jogged down the hall until she caught up with her.

Amber swiped her cardkey in the reader and opened the door, and not a moment too soon, for once they were inside, Claire hastily closed the door and made sure the lock was in place. Claire felt safer in the penthouse than anywhere else at this time.

Amber couldn't help but blurt out bluntly, "Paranoid much?" As she sauntered right into the girls' bedroom.

Claire backed away from the door, now turning towards Amber. "Yeah, well, I don't know if you noticed, but it's not safe out there anymore."

"Whatever."

Claire followed Amber into the bedroom, and watched the younger girl drag out her suitcases from under her bed and begin to pack them with the things she brought on the trip. As Claire continued to watch, feeling awkward about it, she shrugged her shoulders and asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Amber stopped for a moment, thinking. "... Yeah. I...left some of my hairsprays and junk in my parents' bedroom upstairs. Can you go get them?" Claire nodded and left the room.

Claire briskly went up the stairs, and that's when she slowly came to a halt in the large living room. It was then she noticed that the whole penthouse did appear ever-so slightly darker than usual Looking towards the large, bay windows that arched across the top near the roof, normally the windows were the main source of light during the day, and at night, it was the lighting fixtures and lamps that illuminated the rooms. Now, however, the curtains were drawn over them, preventing much of the light from flooding in. Claire furrowed her brows suspiciously. _"I don't remember the curtains being drawn. ... Maybe someone closed them before we left..."_ Claire shrugged it off, knowing there were more important things to worry about than whom may have shut the curtains.

She walked into the Pommel's bedroom and to the dresser, spotting the hairsprays and other little makeups that belonged to Amber. She could see why Amber would go into the bedroom to do her hair and makeup. The dresser had a very large, vanity mirror, which the bedroom all the other girls used did not have this. Claire got Amber's haircare products and makeup and made her way back to the other bedroom, where Amber was just about done packing her suitcases. When Claire handed Amber the rest of her things, she didn't even acknowledge or thank Claire for getting them. Amber just wanted to get it over with.

Amber lugged a few of her suitcases to the entrance doors, while Claire got the rest and wheeled them next to Amber. "So...you got everything?"

Amber nodded solemnly, eyes going to each suitcase to make sure she had them all with her.

Claire knew Amber was ready to leave, and at the back of Claire's mind...something was nagging at her. It began when the Wright family were with the Pommels in the hospital. What started out small- this little voice- had now become loud and known, making its presence all the more clearer. It was the guilt; the guilt that was making Claire feel visibly sick every day for not telling anyone about what happened to Sarah that night. And it couldn't be just a coincidence; the younger girl getting sick shortly after she was attacked by that deranged man. He must of been diseased with something to infect Sarah with whatever ailed her.

 _Infected..._

"... Amber..."

Amber turned to Claire tiredly.

Claire was terrified to say what was weighing on her mind, but she told herself to just say it; like ripping a Band Aid off quickly and not think about the aftermath of the pain that would follow. "That night when we went to the movies, and when Sarah forgot her cellphone, so I went back with her there... We were...attacked..."

Amber merely blinked. Her weary head was still processing Claire's words.

"He didn't take anything from either of us, he just...I don't know- he hit Sarah with _something_ and left a scar on her arm. I didn't think much of it, but...Sarah seemed like she gotten sick shortly after that."

When Claire's words finally hit Amber, her eyes grew wide...and angry.

Claire felt the panic rise within her. "Sarah was filming him, and I told her to stay away from him-"

"And you...and you told _no one_ about this?" Said Amber, her voice growing more infuriated with each passing word.

Claire fidgeted nervously. "N-no... But-"

Amber growled and threw her arms forward, shoving Claire out of pent-up rage. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Amber yelled. "You thought to just keep this to yourself?!"

"Sarah didn't want me to tell anyone! She didn't think it was a big deal!-"

"Oh- my God! Are you serious? What if- what if my sister _dies_ , Claire?! What were you- just going to keep this to yourself forever or something?"

"That's why I'm telling you now! I think...I think maybe that crazy man infected Sarah with something-"

"UGH!" Amber paced around hectically, her arms and hands making all kinds of gestures. It was clear she didn't know what to say or do with herself now; too angry and scared to even think straight. "I-I...I gotta get out of here."

Amber took whatever luggage she could hold at the time and made her way to the doors. She undid the locks and threw the doors open. Before she stormed out, she turned back to Claire. Her eyes could burn holes. "If my sister dies...if she isn't already dead...it's all _your_ fault!"

And with that, Amber walked right out the door.

Claire slowly and quietly shut the door after her...and immediately started crying loudly. She knew this would happen. She knew this was the price for not telling anyone about what happened that night...and now she was paying for it. "I'm so sorry..." Claire wept into the door, sniffling. "I wish...I really wish it was me that got sick...and not Sarah. ...I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry..."

She didn't know how long she remained against the door crying, but once she calmed down a bit, she glanced over her shoulder to see the rest of Amber's luggage sitting there. She was supposed to help Amber out with them, but that was before Claire told her about Sarah. Amber wouldn't want Claire anywhere near her after that. Would she come back soon for the rest of her things? With everything that's been going on, Claire was sure Amber just wanted to get back to her parents and leave New York as soon as possible.

Eventually, Claire's family would find out what she did, but not anytime soon, she hoped. Without the use of cellphones or any kind of wireless technology, there was no way they would know right away. Claire wanted it to stay that way...at least until after her birthday. Things were bad enough as it is without her whole family yelling and screaming at her for her immature decisions.

Claire sniffled some more, then straightened herself up. She didn't want to meet up with her family looking red-eyed and teary from all the crying. Since all the master bedrooms upstairs had large, personal bathrooms, Claire decided to use one to spruce up before heading out.

She flushed out her puffy red eyes with water, smoothed out some of her hair, and reapplied her eye makeup carefully. Once she was through, she reexamined herself in the mirror. ... Yeah, she appeared presentable enough. She was semi-ready to face the world again.

She strode out of the bathroom and headed for the stairs.

"Claire..."

She instantly froze. _"I don't know that voice."_

She hoped she was hearing things. _"This can't be real!"_

She slowly turned around to face it. _"It's just in my mind... It's just in my mind!..."_

Her heart began to race frantically - eyes wide in terror as she now stood before the source of the voice. There, sitting in one of the large, leather reading chairs, was the gentleman dressed in the black suit.

"Y-you..." Claire breathed frightfully.

Eichhorst smiled.

" _Liebling_..." He purred.


	8. Tu Fui, Ego Eris

**Chapter Eight:**

 _Tu Fui, Ego Eris_

 _"What you are, I was; what I am, you will be"_

* * *

Eichhorst remained seated in the leather chair, hands clasped together with the tips of his fingers barely touching one another. His smile was wide and unnerving to anyone unfortunate enough to come across him.

An unfortunate one like Claire Wright happened to be at this very moment.

She felt as if an invisible, brick wall had hit her with tremendous force. She didn't know how else to describe it. So many emotions. So much confusion. So _much_ going on inside her head that she thought it was possible to pass out from it. It was so _overwhelming_ for her to deal with.

... A panic attack. That had to be it! _"I have to run! No! I shouldn't fight back! No! I shouldn't run! No! I should fight back! No, no,_ no _! None of that!"_ Claire's inner voice was in a conflict with itself. She didn't know what to do in this situation. She had watched TV specials in the past on this sort of thing, but now faced with the dilemma herself, she didn't know what the "right choice" actually was.

Eichhorst watched the panicked woman with cruel delight; the only reason he hasn't spoken a word to her as of yet. How he relished it! He can only hope Claire would continue to entertain him in this fashion once they were in a more intimate setting.

After some time passed, Eichhorst had gotten to his feet, an action which made Claire's knees buckle in fright.

"I had not realized my presence would cause such silence from you," said Eichhorst, half sincere- half apologetic, on his end. Claire continued to stare at him, wide-eyed and her mouth agape in terror. "Forgive my intrusion. I would of announced myself sooner, but I saw you attending to that young lady. I thought to keep to myself until we were alone."

Young lady? Did he mean Amber? Had he been in the penthouse that long? How did he get in? How did none of the women notice him earlier? Now Claire's mind boggled with these questions and more to this mysterious man. Just who is he? Why is he here? Claire had taken note of his German accent, but she did not know anyone who would have such, or who was German.

Eichhorst read her bewildered expressions, making his own soften just ever so slightly. "Do you not know who I am?" He asked, somewhat taken aback that Claire did not recognize him.

Claire moved her head, as if to shake it _no_ , but she never finished the action.

Eichhorst placed a hand on his chest to politely introduce himself. "I...am Thomas Eichhorst."

Claire furrowed her brows, racking the back of her mind on this name. _"Thomas Eichhorst... Thomas Eichhorst... Thomas-"_ Then the realization hit her, and her eyes grew wide. Her past actions came flooding back into her head on the ancestry search and what the results had led to... This man from her mother's ever-small, family tree; the pinnacle of her current existence.

Claire blinked her eyes back into focus, backing herself into the stair railing in shock. Her mouth moved, but no words would come out. She briefly reexamined him from head to toe, and tried to remember the images of him that she had gotten from the ancestry search. She gripped the banister and let out a nervous chuckle. "You- you can't be him," she managed to say, swallowing hard afterwards. "He- (another nervous chuckle) he would be...well over a hundred..."

Eichhorst let out his own amused chuckle. "The years have been most gracious to me," he replied, neatly folding his hands in front of himself. "Perhaps now you can-"

Before he could finish, Claire had already taken off down the staircase, almost tripping on her own feet along the way. She bolted for the front doors, groaning inwardly at the fact that the locks would have to be undone in order to throw them open in haste.

She didn't even lay a single finger on the locks when Eichhorst had reappeared out from the corner of her eye, whipping an arm over the front doors to prevent Claire from leaving. Claire gasped, wondering how the man had caught up to her so quickly. She didn't know if she was overthinking it, but no _human_ could move that fast...

"You have sought me out, Claire," said Eichhorst, walking towards her to force her away from the doors. "Don't you wish to know more about myself? Isn't that what you desired? To find me?"

Claire's back hit a wall. She pressed herself into it, hoping somehow or someway it would just magically open up so she could get away from this man. "Mm-" She was too frightened to speak, especially with him closing the distance between them. "T-Thomas-"

"Ah." Eichhorst extended an index finger to correct her. "That's _Herr_ Eichhorst, to you, my dear."

 _"Herr..."_ Claire tried flipping through her past knowledge of German words. She wasn't fluent on the language, but she does remember Googling a few common foreign words such as this. "Lord" or "Mister", or even "Master" are the words she could only recollect on this account. There was no way Claire would ever call him as such.

"Eye- _Eichhorst_..." She drawled, making sure to skip over the " _Herr_ " part he wanted her to address him as. "I don't know about 'desired', but...th-there must be some mistake. You can't be the Thomas Eichhorst I was looking for. And if you were, you can't be-" She stopped when Eichhorst closed the distance between them even more. Claire breathed in and out heavily.

"I can assure you, I am _thee_ Thomas Eichhorst you seek," he said more firmly. "I am your father, and _you_ , Claire Wright, are my child..."

Claire shook her head slowly in disbelief. "I believe it's...great grandchild..." she said, her voice quietly drifting.

She found herself unknowingly staring past him. There was a large mirror, most likely placed there for anyone to look at their reflection and spruce themselves up before or after entering the penthouse. Claire could see her own reflection staring back in horror, and the image of Eichhorst's back to it- but Eichhorst... _his_ image Claire couldn't place correctly. His reflection was blurred and seemed to be in a state of vibrations, or "stuttering", as if the mirror itself wished to rid him from the reflective surface. Everything else reflecting- including Claire- remained stationary and normal. She didn't know what to make of this.

"Oh my God..." Claire remarked under her breath.

Out of curiosity, Eichhorst glanced over his shoulder. In that instant, Claire sprinted to the front doors once again; her trembling hands attempting to undo the locks. Like a talented magician, he appeared in front of her, snatching her working hand tightly in his grasp. His slender fingers squeezed her wrist painfully, forcing a yelp out of her.

"You are wearing my patience, _liebling_ ," Eichhorst warned, his eyes boring holes into her.

He threw her across the floor, making sure she was clear away from the doors this time. Claire hastily got back on her feet, but Eichhorst was already upon her. He swiftly ensnared her throat and shoved her back hard into the mirror she had seen both their reflections in.

As if she was lighter than air, he lifted her off the ground with unnatural ease until she was eye level with him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was thankful his fingers weren't putting too much pressure on her airway, but she still struggled for breath nonetheless.

"Wh-wh-wh-" Claire was trying to say, _'Why are you doing this?'_ but couldn't get the words out.

Eichhorst's eyes meticulously scanned the fine features of her face, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly, as if in thought about them. Then he locked eyes with her...and he smiled. "You are much more lovelier in person than I had imagined," he said, deciding to share some of his thoughts with her. "It is hard to believe that you carry the same blood that I once had."

"Wh-what do you mean?..." She wheezed, straining her neck to ease the pressure of his hand. Claire clawed at the hand around her throat; desperate to break free from him. Even though her nails had scratched his oddly textured skin, the man didn't even flinch.

Eichhorst leaned in, his eyes clearly reflecting into hers. "I know you've seen them," he said. "It is through them that I found you."

Claire didn't understand. "Wh-wha-"

"Don't you remember, Claire? You tried to save your friend that night; however, futile."

Claire's eyes widened. She remembered _'that night'_...

 _ **"The blood that flows through your veins...is the same as his."**_

It all came rushing back to her: that night when Sarah was attacked by a crazed man... and then there was that strange looking man just outside the penthouse room... Those two men had barely resembled humans anymore. The skin on them...and those _eyes_ of theirs...and the _blood_ that dripped from the mouth...

Eichhorst grinned when Claire's heartbeat had risen tenfold. "We are all the same...Claire..." The white, nictitating membrane blinked to the surface for Claire to witness herself. The young woman became more frantic and horrified; clearly confirming that she was in the presence of some kind of monster.

"What the hell?!" Claire shrieked. "What are you?!"

It was at this moment she became desperate, flailing her arms and legs wildly at him. Hitting and shoving, kicking, and even clawing at any part of him she could get her hands on. As before though, her efforts were in vain. The German watched her feeble efforts in sickening fascination; comparing her struggles to an infant babe, fighting for life in the hands of its captor.

Claire froze completely when Eichhorst pressed his body into her, almost intimately. With every breath she took, her breasts pushed into his broad chest. And when their pelvis' touched, it made her stomach lurch horribly in revulsion. She was only thankful that she couldn't feel his arousal from all this. That is... _if_ he can become aroused...

With the hand around her throat, he forced her head to tilt to the side, just enough where he can press his lips in the crook of it. Her breathing hitched in panic. "P-please..." she begged softly, tears welling in her eyes.

His lips trailed along her neck- more specifically, where the jugular and carotid artery resided. He could feel them pulsing- pumping her blood throughout the rest of her body. _His_ blood...

"Do you know how we nourish ourselves?" He asked Claire, pushing some of her stray hairs away from the attending neck. Claire didn't answer. She only swallowed in response. She may not know the answer, but by the way he was cradling her throat, she had an idea.

She felt him sniffing out her scent, or rather, her blood. He smiled against her. He always considered himself a connoisseur of human blood, and prided himself of that fact. "Pure Aryan blood..." he hissed in content, taking another whiff of that lovely fluid. She held in a whimper as an animalistic purr reverberated from his throat.

He stopped when he caught something else hitting his nostrils, repugnant of it. "No...not just Aryan..." he sneered. "... _Schottisch_..." He paused, sniffing more profoundly, trying to pin-point that other type. "... _Slawisch_!" He practically growled the last word in his German tongue, sending violent shivers down Claire's spine.

Claire didn't understand what he was doing. _Couldn't_ understand what was happening. There was only one thing she was sure of: this man- no, _monster_ was going to hurt her. _Badly_. Possibly in ways she could never imagine, and that terrified her.

"St-stop..." She pleaded again, hoping he would reconsider his actions, even if part of her knew he wouldn't. "Please... Don't...don't kill... me..." she let out small, little sobs, not being able to hold back some of the tears any longer.

Eichhorst straightened himself, and then brought his lips to her ear. "I will drink you," he declared huskily, his voice deeper and hoarse than before. " -Turn you. Make you my willing and obedient acolyte..." She could hear him growling softly in anticipation.

His thumb caressed over her jugular vein. He was _aching_ to taste his own blood, even if it had been "watered down" through a few generations, Claire would have to suffice. The stinger inside him was beginning to worm its way out, eager to latch onto her throat and bury itself deep into the very arteries that gave her life.

That crimson fluid... The blood that once resided in his human body... Flowing and nourishing his own vampiric veins. The thought was almost too much for him to wait and savor till later.

Out from the corner of Claire's eye, Eichhorst's mouth opened wide to the point where any person's jaw would of dislocated. Something _terrible_ began rearing out past his lips, making itself known. Claire screamed for her life, thrashing against him- any which way to get away from the "thing" that was slithering out from the depths of his esophagus. He pinned her tightly to the wall, wanting to hold her still for the feeding.

Then...a miracle happened- or was it such?

Eichhorst immediately retracted his proboscis as his acute hearing picked up on the front door locks being undone. Both he and Claire turned their attention to the entrance as the doors swung open. Uncle Ben came stomping in determinedly, much to Claire's relief...and then dread.

There was a moment of silence and stillness between everyone. Eventually, Claire broke through the quietude when she shouted, "Uncle Ben!" And with Eichhorst having been caught off guard, his hold on her loosened enough for the young woman to wiggle out and run over to her uncle's side.

She grabbed at his arm in attempts to lead him out of the penthouse posthaste. Uncle Ben wasn't budging though, having been completely taken aback by the scene he had just barged in on. "Uncle Ben! Th-this man is crazy!" Claire told him stressfully, making sure to keep her focus on the accused.

Uncle Ben didn't know what to think. What he walked in on- in his mind- is what he believed to be a much older man fondling his niece. "Who the fuck are you?!" He demanded angrily, knowing he wasn't to be trifled with now.

Eichhorst stood there quietly. His eyes darted from Uncle Ben, to Claire...and then to Uncle Ben again. The well-dressed gentleman grinned sheepishly. "I believe an introduction is in order." Eichhorst placed a hand on his chest and bowed eloquently. "I am Thomas Eichhorst-"

"I don't give a rats-ass who the fuck you are," Uncle Ben spat, gently pushing Claire behind him in a protective manner. "Get out now before I call the cops." ("No- no, Uncle Ben!" Claire whispered urgently, coaxing her uncle to leave with her. "We need to get out of here! This man is dangerous!")

"I must thank you and your wife for raising Claire. She has certainly grown into a fine young woman," continued Eichhorst, unfazed. "Now I will relieve you of Claire and take her into my care." Claire let out a small, frightened breath. "She will be leaving with me."

Uncle Ben shook his head. "Like hell you will!"

Eichhorst appeared smug. "I did not ask for your approval now, did I?"

Eichhorst was suddenly in front of them both. He backhanded Claire well enough away while he snatched Uncle Ben's throat viciously and lifted him high off the floor. Claire groaned in pain, slowly trying to regain her composure. She managed to get back on her feet again and wiped the bit of blood that formed by the edge of her mouth.

She became terrified at the sight of her uncle, struggling with all his might, from the horrible man that was holding him at bay. Eichhorst's smile grew maliciously, enjoying how events were playing out now. He definitely wasn't expecting for any of Claire's relatives to intrude, but Eichhorst was more than delighted they did.

Claire couldn't believe how powerful Eichhorst really was. Sure, he easily overpowered Claire- but her uncle? Her uncle was almost twice the size of Eichhorst. How on Earth is he lifting Uncle Ben with such ease? _"He really is a monster..."_ Claire thought mournfully.

Eichhorst turned to Claire, smiling excitedly with his captured prey. "I want you to bear witness, Claire." He lowered her uncle back down, keeping a firm hold on him. "What you're about to behold is something truly beyond human comprehension..."

It all happened so fast...and right before Claire's boggled eyes...

Eichhorst reared himself back, his jaw widening beyond human biology. When he released his hold on Uncle Ben, in that instance, something shot forth from his mouth and latched itself onto Uncle Ben's throat. Uncle Ben became instantly paralyzed to the spot, the nerves in his body making parts of him twitch unnaturally. He uttered sounds of sheer agony as Eichhorst's stinger drained the blood from his body. The once healthy, peachy skin of her uncle turned to that of a sickly pallor in just a matter of seconds.

The sight was so _alien_. So _horrifying_! Claire could only become paralyzed in horror herself, with her hands clapped over her mouth. "Oh my...oh my God!" She shrieked loudly. "St...STOP THIS!"

In her current state, there was no way she could fight off a predator such as Eichhorst by herself, and there was no way she could run around him to escape before his inhuman speed could catch her again. It was a fight or flight reflex now, and as cowardly as it was, she chose the latter. Claire spun around and sprinted up the stairs, her feet skidding once she reached the top landing. She then bolted for her aunt's and uncle's bedroom, her particular destination being their grand bathroom. There was a landline phone near the toilet she could use to call for help.

Once she entered the bathroom, she locked the door and made her way to the phone. She dialed 9-1-1 with shaky, clammy fingers. She curled up to the side of the sink cabinets, out of sight from the door. Not that hiding would do her that much good anyway...

Unfortunately... What she heard on the other end of the line made her heart sink.

 _"...We're sorry. All operators are currently busy. Please stay on the line, and the next available operator will be with you shortly..."_

"N-no..." her voice trembled quietly, her body quaking. "Please, no... No, no, no, no, no, no... Please pick up. Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up..."

Not more than a few minutes passed when Claire heard footsteps approach the door. She heard the doorknob being turned violently, and then whomever was on the other side, now began pounding on the door. Claire prayed that maybe it was help...or even her Uncle Ben...

It wasn't.

"Ah... _liebling_..." spoke Eichhorst calmly. Claire gasped frightfully. He tried the doorknob again. "Open the door, Claire."

Claire burst into more tears, gripping the phone tighter in her hands. "Please! Someone! _Anyone_! Please pick up! _Please_!" She cried into the phone, even if the operators still had her on hold. "I'm trapped here! There's a crazed man with me! He- he killed my uncle!"

He started rapping at the door. "Let me in, Claire!"

"-H-he's going to kill _me_! He's going to kill me!"

Eichhorst started ramming the door.

"SOMEBODY HELP ME!" Claire shrieked.

The next fierce slam made Claire drop the phone. She hauled herself back onto her feet. Eichhorst was about to break down the door at any moment, and with those precious seconds, Claire had to think of something- _fast_. She did not want to die like this. Not without putting up _some_ kind of fight.

She scanned around the bathroom sink, seeing an assortment of makeups, haircare products, ointments, and other various instruments. She spotted a pair of hair clippers and grabbed them hastily. She also opened a bottle of rubbing alcohol, getting it ready to throw it at him if all other options should fail.

With the dull-bladed scissors in hand, she backed herself to the farthest end of the bathroom. Just as she did, the bathroom door flew off its hinges. Eichhorst stepped onto the fallen door with a rather disturbing, contented smile on his face. Claire was beginning to hyperventilate.

"My sincerest apologies, Claire," said Eichhorst. "I may have come off a bit too...presumptuous. The scent of your blood has made me overstep my boundaries."

He took a another step forward, and that's when Claire stuck out the scissors in front. "St-stay back!" She warned. Her hands were shaking badly in fear.

Eichhorst's smile widened. "Aah..." He swiftly strode up to her, just stopping out of reach from Claire. "It seems you are still under the presumption that I wish to maim you..." Claire's lips trembled at his pause. "I desire to make you my acolyte, _liebling_ Claire, and that is what I intend to do."

Not that Claire would agree either way, but- "An acolyte- what is that?" She wondered in a shaky voice.

Eichhorst cocked his head to the side, all the while keeping that perpetual smile on his face. It amused him that her vocabulary wasn't up to par with his own. "To serve me," he answered.

Claire swallowed hard, knowing what was about to transpire. It was do or die. A switch suddenly turned on inside her, and her response to him seemed to be in the form of raising her arm and stabbing Eichhorst in the shoulder with the scissors.

Eichhorst barely even flinched. To say the least, he was stunned she would try such a thing, but nonetheless, it did not faze him. It just annoyed him more than anything; after all, now she ruined a perfectly good suit.

He removed the scissors from himself with a swift thrust, and threw the object to the ground, now looking onto Claire with a more perturbed look. The young woman cried out when Eichhorst grabbed her face, and brought her painfully closer to his. As he did earlier, he studied her features. "I tasted your dear uncle's blood. He has a trace of _Juden_ in him."

Claire tried to back away from him, but that only resulted in Eichhorst squeezing her face harder, making a small bone crack from the pressure he exhibited. He continued. "You do not carry any of his strain..." He paused, staring into her eyes. "I've seen the way you look at him... You do not share your love for him as much as your-" His eyes grew wider at the revelation. "- Your aunt." Now Claire's eyes widened upon this words, becoming like saucers to him. He grinned at her reaction. " _Yes_. Your _aunt_ is the Dear One to you. I've seen the way you ran to her side. She is like a mother to you, no?" Claire only faltered her breath. "It seems in order for you to become completely mine, I need to take care of the one you love most."

"No!" Claire screamed furiously, and with a free hand, she grabbed the open bottle of rubbing alcohol and splashed it on his face. As soon as the chemical made contact with his eyes, he coward back and shrilled like some kind of animalistic creature. He rubbed his sensitive eyes fiercely to ease them.

Seeing Eichhorst now vulnerable, Claire dashed over to the towel rack next to him and she put all of her weight into it to have it crash on top of him. She hoped that it would at least slow him down while she made her escape.

She ran out of the bathroom, out the bedroom, and down the stairs to finally leave the penthouse. As she passed Uncle Ben, she heard him groan in agony, and he made an attempt to move some parts of his body. "Oh my God!" Claire exclaimed, and went over to him. "Y-you're alive!" She clutched his frail, pale hand in hers.

Uncle Ben opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no words were uttered. His eyes were glassy and appeared to be staring off into space.

"I-I'm going to get help!" She told her uncle, letting go of his hand. "Just hold on!"

Claire exited the penthouse and quickly made her way to the elevators. When she got near them, she stopped abruptly in her tracks when she caught sight of two individuals hunched over a body. The ones that were standing didn't look human anymore.

Unfortunately, one had already spotted Claire, and snarled in response to her presence. Claire didn't hesitate to turn right around and bolt in the other direction; however, now the two creatures were in pursuit of her.

She didn't know where else to run, being the elevators were the only way she ever left the hotel. She knew the place had to have a stairwell somewhere though...

But she didn't have time to search for them, not with two seemingly hostile creatures chasing her. As Claire turned down into another hallway, she stopped again before she ended up colliding with, yet, a third creature that stood in her way. She gasped. The creature hissed at her as it approached menacingly.

"What the hell is going on around here?!" She screamed. She wasn't expecting anyone to answer her. She just wanted to vent her frustrations.

Claire went to turn around, but the two creatures that pursued her had already caught up. Now Claire was stuck in the middle while the creatures- _monsters_ , advanced towards her. The glint in their eyes was both longing...and hungry.

She couldn't bring herself to scream anymore. She could only back herself against the wall as she kept her eyes on the creatures. She clasped her hands together and put them to her chest, somehow the pressure she put comforted her rapidly beating heart.

Just as they closed in on her by several feet... She heard a voice. "Get down!" It shouted.

Claire did just that, squatting down immediately, and not a second later she heard gunshots fire around her. She shrieked at the sounds, not wanting to get hit. The three creatures near her had crumbled to the ground almost simultaneously, having been shot in the head by precise aiming.

Once the guns have ceased fire, Claire stood back up cautiously. The first thing she was two lone figures at the far end of the hall, their high powered rifles held close to their fronts. From a distance, Claire could see they were covered heavily in black from head to toe, obscuring any part of their skin. She didn't know what to make heads or tails about them. They couldn't be that terrible if they killed those creatures before they got to her.

They eventually started to head her way, causing Claire to become more wary of them. Were they friend or foe? "Um..." Claire was at a loss for words. One of the things she wanted to ask, was, 'Who are you?' and the other being, 'Are you friendly?'

She fidgeted nervously. When they neared, Claire got a better view of their attire: as she confirmed- head to toe in black, but from the looks of it, they appeared to be armored, wearing tactical vests and combat pants. They were certainly dressed for guerilla warfare. Claire could only assume they were vigilantes of some kind. It was the only thing that made sense to her.

"Just...um..." Again, at a loss for words.

Claire didn't like that she couldn't get a good look at their faces, being that they were hooded and veiled with some kind of garment- except for the eyes.

The eyes...

Claire scrutinized her vision, keenly focused on the only exposed part of their body. It was when she got a good look at their eyes did her whole body shake with fright. The eyes that were staring back at her weren't _human_ : black pupils with glowing red sclera. Glowing at _her_. Coming closer!

"Oh...no..." she breathed, starting to back away from them. "No...way..."

Claire cried out when she was suddenly grabbed from behind.

* * *

 _AN: I'm very sorry for this chapter to be so late. I had the biggest writer's block when it came to this chapter. Since it kind of is the official meet of Eichhorst and Claire, I wanted it to be...special(?) And I tried really hard to get Eichhorst's character right (based on the TV show, anyway). His way of speaking is (to me) mostly refined, so dialogue with him was rather difficult to do. I hope I did him justice here._


	9. Strangers

**Chapter Nine:  
**

A figure had come up from behind Claire and grabbed her; putting a gloved hand over her mouth to muffle her screaming. Alarm bells rang inside her head, telling her that it had to be Eichhorst. Whatever the case, she thrashed wildly in its arms, hoping that it would loosen its hold to allow her to flee.

"Calm yourself," said the voice. It was a man's- deep, laced with a slight echo behind it.

That was definitely _not_ Eichhorst's voice.

The person standing behind her emitted a low, throaty growl. It reminded Claire of a rattlesnake's hissing, or the rattling of its tail. It was a very strange, unnatural sound indeed. It only furthered her panic, knowing that whomever was behind her couldn't be...human. No _human_ could make sounds like that.

Claire tensed when she felt him shift his weight, leaning into her, so that his mouth was close to her ear. His voice sent chills down her spine. "I'm going to remove my hand. You will not scream. Understood?"

She was hesitant for a moment, not really knowing why she had. She nodded, slowly but surely. As soon as he loosened his hold, she whirled herself around and put a few feet of distance between them. She now got a good look at the one whom manhandled her...and to what she saw, was not what she had expected.

Her assailant's face was not as obscured as the others she'd seen. The skin on him was that of the whitest eggshell, and appeared as smooth as a marble statue. There were deep scars across his face, as if he had been through many battles throughout his life. His eyes were black and red, just like the other creatures Claire encountered.

The dread and horror that clustered in her chest just sank even deeper. Her eyes had become like saucers. Unable to speak. Unable to move a muscle. She was surrounded in a hallway full of tactically dressed creatures. They weren't snarling or dripping blood from their mouths like the others. In Claire's eyes, she surmised that the beings before her were somehow more...intelligent than the others. They were heavily equipped, and their clothes weren't tattered and torn.

Finally, Claire spoke, "Are you going to take me to Eichhorst?" She said in a meek voice.

The one with the scars across his face, which Claire assumed to be the leader based on his slightly altered appearance, stared at her most inquisitively. "How do you know that name?" He wondered sternly.

Claire swallowed before answering. "He...he came to me. Wanted to- take me away, but...I ran."

"Hm." He took a step towards her, and at the same time she took a step back. He appeared to be smiling from her obvious fear of him. "Did he...hurt you?"

"He- he roughed me up a little, but-" She jumped in her shoes when he was suddenly in front of her, only this time, he grabbed her face rather roughly to examine better. His eyes scrutinized over every little bruise and nick Eichhorst had made on her. He tilted her face to the right and to the left respectfully. Once he was satisfied, he released his hold and began circling around the young woman, inspecting the rest of her.

Claire did not like having her personal space invaded like this. She put her hands on him and shoved him away. "Stop that!" She yelled.

Her act of aggression was seen as hostile to the others, and immediately their rifles were drawn and pointed directly at her. She held up her hands hastily, not wanting them to riddle her body with bullets.

The leader waved them off, and they lowered their weapons.

Claire looked at all their faces in a growing panic once more before her attention went back on their leader. "Who are you?!" She asked fearfully, lips trembling. " _What_ are you?"

"Our names or existence are of little importance," said the leader, and then changed the subject, "We have surveyed most of this place. Where did you happen to come from?"

"The penthouse," Claire answered, and immediately regretted saying it. She sucked in her lips childishly, mad at herself for just complying right off the bat.

"Show me," he said, giving a small wave of his gun for Claire to lead the way.

Claire became steadfast though, remembering that she left her fallen uncle back there. "Why?" She questioned nervously.

The sentient creature stepped closer to Claire, and his expression took an impatient approach. "I am not asking. I am _ordering_ you to take me there," he said more firmly, holding his weapon up for good measure.

Her eyes fell onto his weapon, and again, Claire locked-up in pure fright. Her voice became stuck in her throat.

The leader gave a throaty hiss of aggravation. He decided to try something else. "You mentioned you had escaped from Eichhorst. From the penthouse?" Claire came back to reality, and nodded lazily. "Take us there. _Now_." He demanded.

Claire did not need any more convincing on his end, although she had to take a few moments to figure out where she was exactly and ponder how to retrace her steps. Luckily, she had a pretty decent sense of direction.

Without delaying any longer, she sauntered cautiously ahead of the small group of creatures, and eventually they trailed behind her.

At each crossroads in the hallway, Claire did have to stop and glimpse down either way to remember which to take back to the penthouse. Once she knew, she turned that corner and continued on her way; and the closer she got to the penthouse, the less she had to stop and think about her directions.

"M-my uncle is at the penthouse," said Claire, feeling the need to make them aware of her uncle. "That Eichhorst guy hurt him. You're...not going to hurt him too, are you?" She was expecting an answer, but nothing came from either creature. She did not know if that was a good or bad thing...and that alone bothered her tremendously.

When Claire returned to the penthouse, the door remained wide open when she had rushed out from within. As everyone stepped inside, Claire's sight went straight to her uncle. Nothing had changed. Uncle Ben was still a miserable, blood-drained heap on the floor, only now bile trickled from his mouth and began to pool.

"Uncle Ben!" Claire cried, dashing over to him once again. She got down on her knees to try and comfort him any way she could. "Uncle Ben..."

The leader of the group of creatures motioned for them to check every room, and they did so without hesitation; going swiftly from room to room, practically gliding with precision and grace as a ghost.

But Claire didn't pay any heed to them. Her only concern now was her uncle, whom was in dire need for medical attention. Tears welled in her eyes, feeling hopeless. She held in her sobs as best as she could. If it wasn't for her searching out for Eichhorst in the first place...perhaps none of this would of happened.

 _No_... It would of _never_ happened.

She shook her head in disbelief. All of this was her fault... It was _all_ her fault. "I'm so sorry, Uncle Ben," Claire sobbed, sniffling a little. "I'm so sorry..."

Uncle Ben opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out were garbled sounds of strain and wheezing.

The armed creatures and their leader regrouped near the humans, with the later approaching Claire. "He's not here," he said, albeit aggravated.

Claire stood up. "Well...I...I don't know where he went," she replied, looking to either sides of herself worriedly. She didn't know what else to add, really.

The leader made a throaty hiss of annoyance to this realization, obviously wanting to have hunted down Eichhorst; perhaps the real reason for his arrival with his "comrades".

The creatures remained standing alert though, which frightened Claire. Why weren't they leaving? Claire fidgeted slightly, not knowing what to say or do. "Will you help my uncle?" She decided to say, gesturing to her uncle on the floor. "Eichhorst hurt him bad. I need to get him to a hospital fast, but...9-1-1 isn't working right now..."

The leader knelt down to better examine her uncle; however, very brief.

He stood upright again. "He is...tainted," he declared.

Claire looked at the spoken creature, dumbfounded. "Wh-what?"

The leader cocked his weapon and pointed it at Uncle Ben's head. That was all it took for Claire to go absolutely _hysterical_. "Wh-what are you _doing_?!" She hollered, now attempting to grab the weapon away from the creature. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHAT. ARE. YOU. _DOING_! DON'T! No! NO! DON'T! Stop! STOP!"

The others wasted no time hauling her away from her uncle, grabbing each of her arms to hold her at bay. That didn't stop her though. She thrashed wildly and shrieked as loud as her lungs could carry. She kicked the air, she twisted her body this-way-and-that to get loose from the creatures- all for the sake of trying to defend her uncle from being murdered.

"STOP! STOP! _Please_ , stop! DON'T DO THIS! DON'T-!"

 _Bang!_

Claire instantly froze, her eyes wide and staring.

Her breathing hitched, dreading to focus in where the shot came from; daring to look to the one place she didn't want to see. Once her eyes caught the slightest glimpse of it, though...she couldn't pull herself to not not look away. They became sickenly transfixed. And then...she _screamed_.

There, her Uncle Ben lay as he were, but with a large, silver bolt lodged in his head. Dribbles of blood trailed out of the crevice to which the bolt had plugged. His eyes were wide and glossing over lifelessly; dead, and staring straight at the ceiling.

The leader strode up to the frantic Claire and clasped his hand over her mouth a second time, immediately silencing her. "Quiet!" He barked.

Claire's eyes streamed with tears. She breathed in and out heavily.

He removed his hand once he felt she wouldn't continue her emotional actions. "He was...corrupted," the leader continued.

Claire opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"He was already lost to those that loved him. Taken by... _him_."

The leader waved a hand to the other creatures for them to leave, and so they headed for the doors of the penthouse. With the leader being the last to exit, he glanced over his shoulder to Claire. "...When they are corrupted, their love turns to an insatiable hunger." Claire snapped her head in his direction upon his words. "And they never stop hunting."

And with his parting words, he left Claire alone.

All...alone.

Claire fell to her knees in front of her uncle.

There he was: Uncle Ben.

 _Dead_.

She very gently touched his skin with her fingertips; already he was feeling...cold. She knew he was dead, but yet...she couldn't quite bring herself to this realization.

She felt the stirrings of some psychotic break. Little hics and sobs were bubbling forth from her. She had only ever heard of dead bodies in the news. She had never wanted to see a dead body in person; especially a loved one!

"U-Uncle Ben...?" She asked in a quiet, shaky voice, still not coming to grips with his death. "Uncle...Ben..."

Claire then balled up her fists and started weep into them, not knowing what else to do. What _was_ she to do? With everything that's happened so suddenly, she couldn't think straight anymore. And now with the death of her dear uncle, she was definitely at a loss on where to go from there.

 _"What the_ fuck _is going_ on _?!"_ The disembodied voice in her head screamed. _"What is_ happening _here?!"_

She then heard voices from outside the penthouse. They were distant, but clearly coming closer. Claire practically smashed her face into her hands, not wanting to face anyone or anything right now. We're they just people happening to pass by? Was it those armed creatures returning? Was it Eichhorst returning for Claire? Or was it...perhaps...a horrible group of looters coming to raid and pillage the penthouse, possibly hurting Claire in the process? The possibilities were endless inside the mind of Claire.

They were almost right outside the door. Her ears weren't picking up a German accent, but that didn't mean anything to her. All that told her is that they weren't Eichhorst, but not confirming if they were good individuals.

She could now hear them entering the penthouse. She couldn't tell how many there were- possibly more than two at best, but...whatever they wanted, she wanted no part of it.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Claire hollered at them as loud as she could muster.

There was an odd stillness.

"Whoa- hey, we're not here to hurt you," said a man's voice. He had an accent too, but it wasn't German.

Claire jerked her head towards the penthouse entrance. Standing in the entryway, was a peculiar looking bunch of individuals. She couldn't help but narrow her eyes suspiciously.

There were four of them to be exact. The first being a middle-aged man, without any distinguishing qualities about him. He was a decent looking man, to be sure, but Claire could care less if he was married or not.

Next to him was a woman whom appeared about the same age. She had dark hair and tanned skin; possibly of some Latino decent. Or was it Spanish? Claire couldn't tell, nor was she ever going to ask.

Close to the tanned woman was a much older man- elderly, to be exact. Despite his age, he appeared to be more spry and attentive than the norm. He had a very uniquely designed cane on hand; beautiful craftsmanship on it.

The last man, the one of which whom spoke, wore exterminator coveralls, and stood taller than all the rest. He had this aura about him, which made Claire feel more at ease.

Claire sniffled, wiping her eyes hastily. "Who...who are you?" She asked in a feeble voice.

The exterminator cracked a small smile at the edge of his lips, "We're not the bad guys, if that's what you're wondering-"

"And how do I know you're telling the truth?" Claire replied curtly, her eyes taking note of the odd contraptions on hand and holstered around their belts. She couldn't tell what these things were exactly, but they still looked dangerous.

"You don't," answered the elderly man, walking further into the penthouse. Like with the tall man, he too had an accent, but Claire couldn't place it unfortunately. "But we did not come here to loiter or make small talk."

When they neared Claire, it didn't take them long to notice her dead uncle on the floor...with the silver bolt in his head. They all seemed a bit taken aback by the sight, but not extensively so; almost as if they were used to seeing sights such as this.

"What...happened to him?" Asked the woman. "Did you...do this?"

Claire gazed back down on her uncle mournfully, trying to contain her sobs in front of them. "No... I would never do this to him," she stated. "He...he was attacked...by one of those... _'things'_ " She looked back up at them with red eyes. "You've seen them too, right? The things with the tongues?-"

"Yeah, we've seen them," said the exterminator bitterly. "A little too much for my taste."

Claire balled up a fist. "So...how do I know you're not one of them? Like, you're just trying to drop my guard, and then you'll-"

"Hey, hey- do we look like one of them?" Said the exterminator, gesturing the whole of himself.

Claire sneered at them. "No, but that doesn't mean anything to me. That one that attacked- _killed_ my uncle...he didn't look like the rest! Spoke like a normal person-"

The elderly man's interests have suddenly peeked. "Can you...describe the person you speak of?"

"I can, easily," Claire said broadly. "Wore a suite, spoke German-"

That was all the elderly man needed to hear. "He was here?" He sauntered up to Claire. "How long ago?"

Claire scoffed, shrugging. "I don't...I don't know. Not that long ago...?" She shook her head doubtfully, but then her expression furrowed. "Do you...do you _know_ him?"

"If you are referring to the German whom you speak of, then yes, I know a great deal of him."

Claire almost wanted to let out a frustrated laugh. "How does _everyone_ seem to know this 'Eichhorst' but _me_? I don't...I don't understand!" She looked towards the group of people anxiously. "Is he just that _famous_ around here or something?! Did I somehow miss the memo where all of New York knows Thomas Eichhorst _?_!" She let out a few, maniacal chuckles afterwards.

The elderly man gazed down at Claire, raising a quizzical brow. "I never mentioned his name. How have you come to know him?"

Claire's eyes went to the floor. "I... He says we're related." Everyone around were quite startled by this news. Claire noticed their bewildered reactions. "What? Is that...weird or something?"

Three from the group turned to the elderly man for acknowledgement of some sort. The older one could only stare in shock. Appalled, even. "Related? How?"

Claire scoffed quietly, and shrugged a shoulder uncertainly. "I...I don't...know..." She then sighed. "No...I _do_ know. Sorry. I just..." She sniffled again, and wiped her eyes. "I thought... I mean... I feel like I don't understand anything anymore..." She paused, clearing her throat before finally getting to the elderly man's question. "I think...Eichhorst is my...grandfather, or...something like that..."

There was a long silence following Claire's words. The elderly man knelt down in front of her slowly, trying not to agitate his aging muscles and bones in the process. When he got to her eye level, he studied her features carefully. He inspected her as if he had just discovered a new species.

"Professor?..." the exterminator called out to the old man, growing uneasy as to why the elderly gentleman has stayed quiet while examining Claire.

Moreover, the elderly man kept falling back on Claire's eyes. "It's...possible...but..." He got back to his feet with the help of his cane. "I have no way of knowing what she says is true-"

Claire scoffed angrily. "Why would I lie about something like that?" She pointed to her uncle. " _Look_ what he did to my uncle! And he says if he finds my aunt, he's going to kill her too!" As she continued to speak, her words eventually were lost to sobs, and then she began bawling once more. "All I wanted was to know if I had other family out there! I didn't...I didn't want this to happen! I didn't...I didn't want my uncle to die!"

As the rest watched her cry, the woman from the group approached, "Where do you live?" She asked, wanting to change the subject. "Is there anyone we can take you to?"

Claire snorted. "No!" She spat out, and then her woes came flooding out, "I- I don't know what to do- where to go! I have _no one_ to turn to! My family's _missing_! I...I don't even _live_ here! We were just taking a trip here! I'm...I'm from Massachusetts! I don't even know how to get home!" She grasped the sides of her head, feeling panic beginning to wash over her. "I don't know what to do! I don't even know what the _hell_ is going on around here!"

The rest looked at one another for suggestions, nor were they sure how to deal with someone as emotionally unstable as Claire.

"You can stay with us," the exterminator chimed in, stepping forward. "Until you can find your family."

Claire's sobs eventually ceased, and she peered up at him. She didn't know what to say.

The elderly man tapped his cane to the floor, coming out of his own inklings on the current situation. "I do not think it's wise for us to stay any longer. We are wasting time. It is clear that Eichhorst is no longer here."

Claire finally got to her feet in a hurry. "Then- let me leave a note, incase my aunt comes looking for me here. Does that...does that sound okay?"

Everyone merely gave a nod or shrugged in response. "Don't see the problem with that," said the normal-looking man.

Claire walked into her bedroom, getting some notebook paper and a pen to write with. Before she even touched the pen to paper, she hesitated. The hand which held the pen became shaky. Everything was happening so _suddenly_ for her. It wasn't until she heard noises outside did she wake from her daydreaming and get to the task at hand.

She stopped midway though. She tapped the end of her pen to the paper, biting her lips nervously, wondering about something.

She ended up walking out the bedroom and decided to say out loud, "Um...I don't know any of your names. I mean...I just thought that if I tell my aunt where I'm going or staying with, I think I should leave your names down..." She looked at each and every one of their faces. "...no?"

There was a pause, before the exterminator said, "I'm Vasiliy Fet- but, uh...you can just call me Fet." He gestured to the elderly man, "That's the Professor- Setrakian's his name." Then he pointed to the only other two people, "That's Ephraim Goodweather, and Nora Martinez- the docs."

"Just Eph and Nora is fine," Eph added.

"Um...okay," said Claire, now jotting down the names she was given. "My name is Claire, by the way," she said somewhat sheepishly. "Just thought to share that since...well, I know all your names now."

She walked over to a small table nearest the door and set the note down on it, hoping that if her aunt stopped by she would immediately see it. She didn't know what else to do but write down the names of the people she was going to leave with. With most telecommunications down, there was no way to leave any working cell phone numbers down. Claire hoped she was doing the right thing by leaving with these people.

Claire turned around to face the others. "Is there any chance we can...?" she drifted off as she caught the sight of her uncle's body, only this time there was a sheet neatly draped over him. She ended up staring at it longer than she had wanted to.

"Thought we shouldn't leave him like this," said Eph, now walking to the entrance with the others.

Claire clutched her hands and placed them to her chest, sniffling a little. She was grateful he did that. "Yeah... I guess...I just didn't think of it." Then she remembered what she wanted to ask, "Can we stop by this Italian restaurant that's really close by? I forgot the name, but I know where it is! I think my aunt and cousin might be there waiting for me and Uncle Ben-" As soon as she said that, she stopped herself, knowing that Uncle Ben wouldn't be along with her.

"Uh, sure, if that's what you want," said Fet, scratching an itch at the back of his head.

"-But! If they're not there, then...they have to be at the hospital still. Don't know the name of it either..." Claire said somewhat shamefully. "But, I know it's the hospital nearest this hotel."

Eph nodded in understanding. "Wayside," he said.

"I don't mean to be a bother about this. I just want to find my family. I...I have to tell my aunt about my uncle. About what...happened. I don't want to burden you guys or anything."

Fet petted her shoulder comfortingly. "Hey, it's no problem. We'll get you there."

"Then we better get a move on," Setrakian butted in, heading out the door. "It won't be daylight forever."

Everyone followed Setrakian out the penthouse doors, with Claire being the last. When she closed the doors, she pressed her hands to them. She took in a deep breath...and exhaled. She was about to leave a place where she thought she was safe from the outside world, but somehow it was easily violated by Eichhorst's intrusion.

 _Eichhorst..._

With him forever imprinted on her mind, her spine tingled in fear. As much as she didn't want to believe it, but somehow she knew...it wouldn't be the last she's seen of him.

Not by a long shot.

* * *

 _AN: So...I don't have any excuses why this chapter is so late. I mean, I can easily make up excuse, like, I have stuff going on with me, and...there's the fact that I don't know what's_ exactly _going to happen in each chapter of this story. Don't get me wrong, I have a general idea of how the story as a whole will go (hence the 'M' rating), but for all the little details in between...yeah, still have issues. Like with this chapter, there was stuff I thought about adding, and then took out, thinking it might be added in later chapters, etc., etc. I also ALWAYS have huge writer's block when villains aren't "featured" in certain chapters...like this one. I'll feel better when Eichhorst shows up again_


	10. Get Used To It

**Chapter Ten:  
**

Fet pulled up Eph's SUV to the side of a curb. Putting an arm up on the arm rest, he turned around halfway to face Claire in the back of the vehicle. "This the place?"

She glanced out the windows, and hopelessness washed over as she muttered, "Yes... This... _was_ it."

Claire ended up staring at the small, Italian establishment, wishing she was already zipping right inside to find her aunt and cousin there; waiting for her.

No. Not just them, her uncle too. All of them, inside, and waiting with eager and happy expressions on their faces as they would shout, "Surprise!" as soon as she was in their view. "Happy Birthday!"

... But that would never be the case now. There's no way any of them could be inside, especially her dear Uncle Ben.

That little, Italian restaurant was now all boarded up, from the windows to the doors, to prevent looters and trespassers from entering. There was a sign on the boarded doors that said 'CLOSED INDEFINITELY'.

Claire slumped back down in her seat, resting her head back as far as it would go. She closed her eyes to become lost in her thoughts.

"So...hospital then?" Fet asked.

Claire nodded solemnly, brushing some of her hair away from her face. "Yeah..." she said.

Fet backed up the vehicle and drove on to the streets once more, now heading for Wayside Hospital.

Claire sniffed, an attempt to keep down any miserable thoughts until she was in a more "stable" location to vent her frustrations and dread. Instead, she turned her attention to what was around her: the driver, being Fet, with Nora sitting in the front passenger seat. Behind them was Setrakian and Eph, sitting quietly and attentive to their surroundings. And at the very end, was Claire, sitting with all kinds of weapons and unusual contraptions around her feet and on the seat next to her. Her eyes focused on the things she easily recognized, like the backlight lamps, sharpened blades of various sizes, and even a few things that resembled guns. Seeing all this and how the group was dressed, she surmised that they've dealt with the creatures she's been encountering.

"Wh-" Claire's voice caught in her throat. Eph and Setrakian turned in her direction. She eventually found her voice again, "I...I don't even know where to begin asking, to be honest." She swallowed before continuing, "Do you guys know what's going on around here? You said you've seen them before, right? The things with the tongues? What are they? Where did they come from? And-" Her eyes casted downwards to the floor, "And what does that Eichhorst-guy have to do with all this? Is he really one of them? Why doesn't he look-?"

"There is much to explain," Setrakian interrupted wearily. Claire heard him exhale softly, as if he was tired of explaining this to people.

Hearing the weary tone in the old man's words, Claire felt a little guilty for asking all that she did. "I...I can just take a short version of everything...if that helps in any way," she said.

"We're fighting vampires," said Eph as bluntly as he could get.

Claire's lips parted in shock. "Wh-what?"

"When people hear the word 'vampire', their first thoughts are creatures with long fangs and satin cloaks; however these... _paraziți_ that we are dealing with, are far beyond what they are perceived to be in movies and cartoons. What we are up against is nothing on par to which you've seen on television," said Setrakian. "Do not ever underestimate the power of these creatures."

Claire sat there, staring into space, as Setrakian went on with everything he knew about the creatures. It was crucial information to her, but to the rest in the vehicle, it was merely an after school brush-up to what was already said and done before.

The whole time she listened, her eyes were wide in disbelief. Her hands went to her knees and she squeezed them on occasion, reminding herself that _this is real_. _You are not dreaming_. You have been stalked by _him_. Your uncle is dead. _They_ killed him.

The vampires. The _strigoi,_ as the professor likes to call them.

Setrakian talked about the king of these creatures: The Master, as "he" or "it" prefers to be called. He told her all that he knew of the gargantuan monstrosity, and when he first laid eyes on the creature while he was held prisoner at the Treblinka extermination camp; and also, being introduced to the Nazi commandant himself, Thomas Eichhorst.

"His cruelty and perversion have well carried over in his transformation," said Setrakian, speaking from experience on Eichhorst. "He has no compassion for humanity, nor did he ever. Do not expect any mercy from him."

Claire didn't know what to say. She listened, but most of the old man's words went in one ear and out the other. Her breathing was harsh, but not to the point of hyperventilation. She couldn't bring herself to believe it. She couldn't bring herself to believe _any_ of it!

Setrakian briefly turned his head until Claire came into his peripheral vision, seeing the trepidation across her face. "It is easier for one to witness such atrocities than-"

"-But I _have_ seen it!" Claire blurted out. "But I just- I can't- I just _can't_ bring myself to _believe_ any of it!"

"I was like you not that long ago," Eph chimed in, although dubious about it. "Questioning and trying to rationalize everything that's happening, but I've come to the conclusion that you... _can't_. The fact of the matter is: you just have to accept it, and get used to it."

"Get used to it?" Claire mumbled.

"We're here," Fet announced. He barely had parked the vehicle when Claire was ready to throw open the door and jump on out. "Woah! Hold on!" Said Fet, hearing the _'click'_ of the door lock from Claire grasping the handle.

She eventually let go of the handle, and remained in her seat. She couldn't help herself. She was all too anxious to get out and see if the rest of her family were still at the hospital.

Eph was the one to instantly notice that something didn't seem right about the atmosphere around the hospital. "This isn't right."

"It's too...'quiet'," added Nora, just as foreboding.

Claire looked out the windows and saw all the unevenly parked vehicles and the lack of human traffic right on the outside, but she didn't think of it as odd. "Looks fine to me," she said. "Looks just as empty from when I was there this morning."

"How did it seem then?" Nora asked.

Claire shrugged uncertainly. "I don't know. There were hardly any doctors, but tons of people wanting to be seen-" she then realized the last part made her become uneasy, now understanding why they were on edge. "Come to think of it...you'd think there would be more people coming to the hospital..."

Fet got out of the SUV and walked around it to open the door for Claire. "I'll go check it out. If I'm not back in thirty minutes, come get us."

The rest of the passengers agreed on these terms. Fet moved to the trunk of the vehicle and opened it up to ready himself for whatever was inside. Seeing the much taller man stock up on weapons and other weird devices made Claire become frightened. "I...I think we'll be fine," she said with much uneasiness in her voice.

"Can't be too careful," Fet practically muttered, then he handed her a large butcher knife made of silver. "Here. Just in case we run into those bloodsuckers."

" _This_?" Claire chuckled mockingly to the blade in her hands. "How is _this_ going to help me with those things that shoot out six-feet long tongues?"

Fet shut the trunk and cracked a smile to her sarcasm. "Take it or leave it," he said, and walked on ahead of her.

"No...no, I'll take it," she said somewhat sourly, stuffing it in the waist band of her jeans. Then she quickly caught back up to him. "I was just hoping for- I don't know, a gun or something."

"We only use guns in emergencies. Hard to make silver bullets."

"Oh."

When the two reached the hospital entrance and walked through it, they were greeted with a sight that did not surprise Fet in the least. In the large reception area, most of the furniture had been tossed and turned, and thrown around the room. Papers and magazines lay scattered everywhere. The most horrific sight of all though, were the bloody and beaten bodies that adorned the already messy hospital. There were only a few to account for, but it still made Claire's body tense in fright. She didn't know if she was ever going to be used to this.

"Should of figured," said Fet glumly, stepping further in to inspect the chaos that had endured.

When nearing the reception desks, both Fet and Claire could distinctly hear muffled sounds from behind the counter, like there was something "gulping" or messily "slurping" something-or-other. Claire had no idea what it could be, but Fet knew immediately and drew his weapon. It was the sound of something _feeding_.

Fet stuck out his other hand for Claire to stay back, and she needn't be told twice to do so. She remained several feet away, all the while, made attempts to see what Fet was doing.

Out from behind the reception desk, a couple of those _strigoi_ sensed Fet's presence and stood right up to confront him. Clearly the creatures were agitated that their meal was interrupted. Fet immediately withdrew a luminescent UVC lamp, and the creatures coward and screeched in pain by the glow unto them. Fet used this brief interlude to hack at their heads with quick precision and expertise in this "new" line of work of his.

All Claire could do was remain rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the sight of _them_. She couldn't even bring herself to draw out her own weapon in case one decided to go straight for her instead; after all, she would of made for an easy target.

"The munchers hate these things," said Fet, looking over his shoulder to Claire. He held up the luma lamp in his hand, assuming that's why Claire was so dumbfounded.

"Huh?" Claire blinked her eyes back into reality and focused her attention on him. " _Munchers_?"

"Oh-" Suddenly Fet chuckled lightheartedly, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "It's the nickname I've given them. The Professor calls them _strigoi_. Me? I prefer munchers."

Claire still remained motionless.

"Uh...you okay?"

Claire exhaled deeply, putting a hand to her head. "I'm sorry- It's just...this is all happening a little too _sudden_ for me, you know." She sniffled, straightening herself to stop all the tears and woes that wanted to come forth so badly from her. Her body so desperately wanted to let out her anguish. _All_ of it.

"Yeah, I get it. It wasn't easy for me either: gettin' used to it. They don't let you. But...you're forced to."

 _Get used to it._

"So, you know where your family is at? What floor they're on?" Fet asked, starting to move himself to one of the computer terminals at reception.

"No. My family wasn't the ones admitted to the hospital. It was this girl, Sarah...something. Can't remember her last name." Claire thought more on it before continuing, "Come to think of it, no one's told us what floor or room she was staying at. I don't think her parents even know..."

"Ah..." Fet tapped the top of a screen monitor. "Good thing we have one of these still up and running."

Claire went over to Fet, looking at the computer monitor. Luckily one of the receptionists didn't log out so others couldn't use it. "Well, I don't know how to use one of these. Do you?"

Fet scoffed and shook his head. "No, but it'll take too long to check every room. Getting darker outside, and we don't want to be _here_ when that happens."

Claire shot him a nervous glance before turning back to the computer. As she had said: neither of them knew how to use the hospital program, but after a few minutes of clicking on various things, they finally found a list of patients in hospital care. After quickly scrolling through it, Claire found the name she was looking for. "There! Sarah...Pommel. That's definitely her."

"Just a few floors up. Beats searching every room of this place," said Fet.

With Fet taking the lead, they both left the reception area and headed for the stairwell, making their way to the room supposedly where Sarah Pommel is being kept...and hopefully her family was in that room too; otherwise, Claire didn't know what to do if she didn't find them. She was hoping that the two _strigoi_ that they encountered would be the last.

Such was not the case, however; two vampires were found crouched together in a corner landing, perhaps trying to regain their strength for further consumption of humans. As soon as Fet neared them, they sprang up, growling and hissing their annoyance to the man. They charged at him, but Fet made sure to keep them at bay with the luma lamp.

"Shouldn't be that many up here," said Fet, killing the last _strigoi_. "They prefer the underground. The darker places."

"Makes sense," said Claire, clutching her chest tightly.

Continuing up the stairwell, Fet took a quick, concerning glance at Claire. "You okay there?"

Claire, bugged-eye, nodded hesitantly. "Y-yeah," she barely managed to croak out, swallowing afterwards. "Just as long as nobody else dies, you know."

Fet shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. "Can't help ya there-"

"N-no. What I mean is, I don't want nobody else _I know_ to die," she said. "I think I might lose it if I do."

Once they reached the third floor landing, Fet opened the door, which made a horrible squeaking sound as he did, like the hinges desperately needed to be oiled. "I always hated hospitals," he said, deciding to announce his thoughts.

"What?" Claire couldn't help but choke out a giggle to his statement.

Fet held open the door for Claire to walk in first, and then followed after. "Something about them. The smell of... _death_. I would throw fits whenever I broke an arm or a leg. Practically had to get five guys to drag me into the emergency room." Fet turned to Claire, who made the most peculiar face at him. Suddenly Fet got the message and chuckled himself. "Ah, probably should of mentioned that I was a _kid_ when this happened. Hating the hospitals though? Still hate them."

Claire furrowed her brows at him. "Yeah...that...probably would of helped."

After a pause, she asked, "What made you want to say that? The hospital thing, I mean?"

Again, Fet shrugged. "Dunno. Just to change the mood. Helps with all the munchers running around. Gotta keep your chin up and not let them get to you. Otherwise, in my book, they already won."

She didn't know whether or not to agree with that, but nevertheless, she said, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Upon exiting the stairwell to the third floor, the two were greeted with a sight just as grim as the lobby: overturned stretches lined the hallways here and there. IV bags littered the floors and were either broken or still intact in piles on each other. The backup lights didn't prove much help with the lighting itself, and only the light shone from the outside illuminated parts of the hallway. The most grisly sight to behold were the splatters of blood on the walls and floor, but no bodies to accompany the stains. This made Fet become more on edge.

"After this, I think I may hate hospitals even more," said Fet sardonically. He looked towards whatever windows were nearby. "We're already losin' some light..."

"Then let's just get my family and go," said an urgent Claire, getting herself closer to Fet for protection.

All Claire wanted was to reunite with her family, get the hell out of New York, and back to Massachusetts; home. Such a simple plan, yet, seems so complicated to execute. As long as they could make it home, at least they'll be in surroundings familial to them. Their home was always a safe haven from the outside world. From work or school, or from wherever, as long as they were all home in the company of each other. Everything would be _fine_ then.

"This should be the room," said Fet, standing in front of a closed door. He turned the knob, expecting it to just open instantly, but it didn't. It threw him off guard a tad. "Locked."

"What?!" Claire gasped.

He tried it more aggressively, but it still wasn't budging. With a heavy breath, he took a few steps back, standing at the ready. "Stand back, I'm going to break it down-"

Then, they heard a voice from the other side, "Who are you?"

Claire's heart nearly jumped out of her chest at the familiar sound. "Chris?!"

"Claire?" The door was thrown open, and standing there was a frantic looking Chris Wright. His eyes went past the two and searched either sides of them, completely ignoring the new stranger in front of him. "What the hell's going on out there? Where's mom? Where's dad? Did you see them?"

Claire shook her head solemnly. "N-no, but, where _is_ your mom? Shouldn't she be here with you? And-" She peered past Chris into the room and realized there was no one else besides him there. "Where is everyone else?"

Chris stepped to the side to let Fet and Claire walk by. "Mom and I got separated. She told me to stay in here and she'll get help." He crossed his arms, his whole body in constant movement from aggravation. "What the hell is going on, Claire?! What are those 'things' running around out there? And where's dad?-"

"Look," said Fet, stepping in between them. "I'm glad you guys found each other, but we need to move. It's getting dark-"

Suddenly, the sounds of more vampire creatures rang in the air. Fet turned to see three of them running down the hall towards him.

"Stay in the room! Close the door! I'll just be a sec," he told them.

Claire immediately shut the door, just as the creatures reached the room. She pressed her ear to it, attempting to hear what was going on. She could hear screeches and struggling, and eventually, they started to drift further away.

"It's been more than a 'sec' now," said Chris dryly. He half expected Claire to turn to him with a scowl in response, but she remained against the door.

After a minute she turned to Chris. "So what exactly happened with everyone? Where is your mom?"

"I already told you!" Chris said testily. "Those _fuckers_ suddenly came out of nowhere. Idiot people here separated us, but she did yell that I stay in this room and lock the door. She said she would get help and come back to get me...and that was it." He shrugged with uncertainty afterwards.

The coarse language that he used left a frown on her face, but there were more dire matters to worry about than a mid-teen using foul words.

With a heavy sigh, Chris asked again, "So...did you see dad at all at the hotel?"

That question made Claire tense up, leaving air trapped in her lungs. She couldn't breathe. She didn't _want_ to breathe for that second.

"... Claire?"

She let out a heavy, faltering breath, and turned her gaze to the floor. "I did." She said quietly, swallowing.

Chris suddenly became anxious, looking all around Claire as if Uncle Ben had just popped out of thin air somewhere. "So...where is he? Is he still at the hotel?"

She didn't want to lie. What was the point on holding it back? He would find out the truth eventually. To keep up the facade that Uncle Ben was okay would be much too difficult. What if Aunt Trish came back? What would Claire tell her? The same thing? Claire didn't want to pretend he was fine, knowing in her heart that he was far from that.

"Chris..." Claire began.

Chris blinked and stared back puzzled. "Claire...where's my dad?"

Claire turned to him with tears welling in her eyes. "Chris... He..."

"Where's my dad?" Chris pressed, his tone becoming uneasy. Claire could only sniffle in response at this point.

He had some idea that something terrible happened to his dad, but he had to hear it for himself- hell, part of him felt he would need to see his dad's body in order to confirm said suspicions. But right at this moment...he _needed_ Claire to say it.

"Claire-"

A loud, urgent rapping had occurred at the door, causing the two to gasp from being startled. "Hello? Chris? You in there?"

Both Claire and Chris gave each other quizzical looks before Chris slowly approached the door to see who it was. "Um...yeah...who are you?"

The voice on the other side scoffed in response. "It's me, Amber! Open the door _now_!" She demanded curtly.

And so Chris did, barely opening it ajar when Amber pratically pushed herself in, clearly overwrought with desperation. "Is it safe in here?" She wondered frenetically.

"I don't think we'd be in here if it wasn't," Chris replied with the same level of rudeness as Amber.

Amber breathed a small sigh of relief. "Oh...oh my God! Do you know what the fuck is going on around here?!" She questioned harshly, pushing away some hair on her face. Before Claire and Chris had a chance to even open their mouths, Amber kept talking, "Those things are fucking _everywhere_! How...how are we going to get out of here?"

"Well..." Claire tried to look past Amber and into the hallway. "Did you see anyone on your way here? A big man? Maybe fighting some of them?"

Amber suddenly looked at her as if she had lost her mind. "What? No." She then spun around and appeared to grab something from just outside the room; out of sight from the others. "So...I don't know where my parents are. So many _freaks_ running around here...but...I managed to find Sarah..."

Then Amber brought in her younger sister, Sarah, holding the younger girl by her arm, helping her walk steadily into the room. Claire and Chris immediately backed themselves up to the horrifying sight of Sarah: the girl that they remembered was so full of life and energy, with an attitude to accompany it; _now_ , on the other hand... Sarah scarcely resembled what she once was. Her skin had taken on a paler gray, translucent color. Her hair was filthy and falling out, balding. Her eyes though...were now completely black saucers with a little ring of red around it. Claire's lips parted in horror to Sarah's appearance, knowing now what was really in front of her.

No one could tell where Sarah's gaze was. She seemed to be staring into space; appearing not in thought, but somehow still keenly aware of her surroundings. She didn't even acknowledge Claire and Chris' presence in the room.

"Woah..." Chris took another step back from Sarah, not able to take his eyes off her. "What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know..." Amber replied worriedly, cocking herself to try and gaze at her sister's face. "She's just getting sicker and _sicker_..." She then shot a heated look to Claire. "No thanks to you," she grumbled.

Chris looked to Claire for some sort of clarity on that comment, but Claire just shook her head and rolled her eyes, gesturing that she really wasn't quite sure what Amber was talking about.

When Amber walked further in with Sarah, Claire took another step back and shook her head at Amber. "You can't bring her in here," she said brazenly. " _Look_ at her. She's one of them!"

Amber's eyes grew wide at the statement. "What are you talking about? She's just _sick_! Can't you see she needs help."

"The only help she needs is being put out of her misery," Claire said just as sharply. "Get her out of here before she tries to kill us!"

Amber became flabbergasted. "Are you crazy or something? She is _sick_! She's not going to hurt anyone!" She argued with all her might. "And we can't go back out there! You can't make us go back out there!-"

Claire interjected, "I didn't say _you_ have to go-" she pointed to Sarah. "I said _she_ has to go!"

Amber wrapped her arms around her sister protectively. " _We_ are not going back out there!" She declared, putting greater emphasis on the 'we' part.

"Will somebody do _something_?!" Chris yelled over them. "We can't leave the door open here!"

Claire grunted frustratingly and took out the sharpened weapon Fet had given to her and pointed it straight at Sarah threateningly. Chris became taken aback by the fact that he didn't realize that Claire had such a dangerous weapon on her. "She needs to leave _now_!" Claire threatened sternly.

Sarah became rattled when she sensed the silver of Claire's blade. She regained her vampiric senses, and her attention went immediately over to Amber. With a high-pitched growl, her mouth opened wide and that revolting stinger shot out and latched itself into the back of Amber's neck.

Both Claire and Chris screamed in unison, and if taken out of context, anyone would of found their sounds to be quite comical. They watched Amber frozen with agony and terror. Her eyes bulging out of her sockets, staring straight at the two in front of her, as if silently screaming for help.

Claire's instincts kicked in: flight or fight. Without much thought or hesitation, she went around to the side of them, positioning herself in front of the attaching appendage that is Sarah's stinger. She lifted her blade, and using all her weight in her arm, brought it down as hard and as swift as she could on to the stinger.

Like a reflex, Claire jumped back as Sarah's appendage sliced in half, and the creature that was once human reared back and screeched in horrific pain. Amber instantly collapsed to the floor once released.

 _"Sabia mea cântă de argint!"_

Claire and Chris' attention went back to the door, as Abraham Setrakian came into view and unsheathed a sword from his antique cane. With his blade, he quickly dispatched of the vampire by slicing off the head.

Both the terrified Claire and Chris watched as Sarah's head toppled and rolled off to the side, and even as it hit a wall, they still couldn't take their eyes off of it; as if transfixed to witnessing the gruesome act of a young girl.

"Where is Mr. Fet?" Setrakian questioned as he put his weapon back into the cane. He waltzed right into the room, followed by Eph and Nora close behind.

Claire's mouth hung open. She tried to form words, but still couldn't managed to produce anything. "H-h-he...he..."

Before Setrakian could question further, Fet came running back to the inpatient room, his feet almost skidding against the marbled floor. "You guys okay? I heard screaming, and- oh!" He then took notice of Setrakian, Eph, and Nora now with the others.

"You have taken much too long, Mr. Fet," said Setrakian, giving the floor a good tap with his cane. "We must leave before more _strigoi_ infest this place."

Hearing those words brought Chris back to reality. He looked to Setrakian worriedly, saying, "But my mom told me to wait here for her. She said she was going to get help."

"It's too dangerous to stay here," said Fet. "You can stay with us 'till we find your mom."

Chris scoffed at the idea. He didn't like it, but what choice did he have? He knew Fet was right, after all.

Claire didn't hear. She seemed to be in her own world, staring at the unconscious Amber on the floor. On the back of Amber's neck was a small gash where blood slowly began to trickle out from it. "Amber..." Claire barely whispered. "I'm so sorry..."

Setrakian took a few steps over to Amber, looking down on her solemnly. "Did you...know this young woman?" He asked Claire.

Claire didn't answer. She couldn't take her eyes off Amber; more specifically, the little pool of blood that formed by her head. Claire opened her mouth to speak, but yet again, no words came out.

 _Get used to it. Get used to it._

"Yeah, she came with us on our trip here," Chris finally answered. "She, and..." he gestured to the decapitated Sarah. "Her sister."

"Mm." Setrakian made a sound of acknowledgement, and withdrew that silver sword from his cane once again, knowing what had to be done.

Seeing that blade got Claire to perk back up, her body trembling. "W-wait! Can't we save her? Isn't there anything we can do?" She pleaded.

"There is nothing that can be done," said Setrakian. "Once you are struck, it is already too late." He then took his blade and shoved it into Amber's skull, killing her instantly.

Claire made a loud gasp of fright, covering her mouth. Even Chris could hardly contain his horror and disgust.

"Let us leave now." said Setrakian, putting away his silver blade.

Everyone started to pile out of the room, but Claire remained staring at the two dead girls. She couldn't help but reminisce that she just saw them not too long ago. They were alive. They were just _here_. And now...they were dead; taken by this vampiric virus. An _incurable_ virus. A virus that would most likely end the human race in just a matter of months, if not even that.

The thought nearly sent Claire to her knees in grief.

"Uh...hey!" Fet called to Claire, looking back at her from outside the room . "We gotta go!"

 _Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it._

She couldn't hold it back. "Chris..." Claire gazed across the room to Chris, whom looked back at her perplexed by her odd behavior. "Your dad is dead."

 _Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it. it. Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it. Get used to it._

* * *

 _AN: As you can see in this chapter, Eichhorst wasn't featured here, and I'm really sorry about that. So why was this chapter so late? Again, it's hard to get motivated when a featured villain isn't featured in a chapter. And secondly: real-life stuff gets in the way, and thus, I lose even more motivation. So this chapter was typed up in bits here and there, and finally...this the result._

 _Please don't be discouraged though. Eichhorst will return in the next chapter, and onwards. And because of that, I PROMISE, the next chapter will be done much sooner. The good stuff is on its way, slowly but surely. Even though I know 'The Strain' has ended, I hope you guys continue reading this. Your reviews really help keep this story alive and brighten up my day. I really do thank you all, my wonderful readers and reviewers, for making it this far!_


	11. Uneternal Sleep

_Story/chapter title inspired by: "Uneternal Sleep" by_ _ _Akira Yamaoka (Silent Hill 3 soundtrack).__

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven:  
**

"Hello?! Can anybody hear me?!" A young woman shouted, using her fists to pound viciously on the thick, wooden door. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!" Her knuckles were beginning to bruise; even when she started to sob, she didn't want to let up incase somebody did come along to release her from the room.

When her energy waned, she decided to stop to catch her breath. Instead, she spun around, scrutinizing her surroundings once more. The room where she was held in was mostly barren, except for a bed and a desk. The rest of the room itself was in ruins: the wallpaper was torn in places where one could see the boards beneath. Dust covered some areas, desperately needing someone to polish.

The young woman had already searched high and low, attempting to find some sort of weakness within the structure, but to no avail. Whomever or whatever is keeping her here made sure she had no way of escaping.

Not that any "normal" means could easily harm a vampire, or more specifically, a monster like Thomas Eichhorst.

The young woman let out a frightened gasp as she heard the lock being undone to her door. She took a few steps back, preparing charge past whoever was on the other side; friend or foe.

As soon as the door opened wide enough, the young woman sprinted as fast as she could to it, but her assailant had easily anticipated such a feat, and backhanded her hard enough to send her flying in the opposite direction. She cried out in pain, hitting the floor hard.

"Such a valiant effort," said Eichhorst, stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind him. "Unfortunately, I do not intend for you to leave this room alive."

The young woman crawled backwards along the floor, rubbing her painful, tingling cheek. The tears that ran down her face further increased the stinging sensation on her skin.

Eichhorst's lips twisted into a cruel smile, leering down on his prey with such horrible intentions. He relished in her fear. He could hear her heartbeat quickening with each and every breath she took. The blood pumping through her veins only increased his desire for her; his burning _hunger_. He took slow, predatory steps, each one bringing him closer to his meal.

The young woman's crawl came to an abrupt end when her back hit against the bed. She exhaled frighteningly, cowering as he drew closer. She started to whimper, "N-no...no. No...please..."

He stopped in front of her. "Stand up," he commanded. She didn't move. She was either too afraid to do anything or his words just fell on deaf ears. " _Stand up_ ," he said more aggressively.

The young woman hesitantly peered up at him with swollen, red eyes. "Wh...what...what are you-" He cut her off by grabbing the hem of her blouse and hauling her roughly to her feet, as if trying to get a ragdoll to stand on its boneless limbs.

"Did I tell you to speak?" Said a disgruntled Eichhorst. "I do not believe I did." He took a hand and pinched her cheeks together, causing her lips to pucker. "Another word out of you, and I'll rip that tongue out. Do you understand this?" Through her hics of sobbing, the young woman nodded accordingly.

Eichhorst smiled contently. " _Gut_..." he purred.

The young woman which he had acquired was a very beautiful creature. Long, soft, wavy blonde curls that stopped halfway down her back. Her hair was much lighter than Claire's, but this did not bother him. What did irk him, however, were the woman's eyes. The young woman standing before him had dark brown eyes, not blue; not like himself, and not like Claire.

This made him sneer in contempt. He distinctively asked for a young woman with blonde hair and _blue_ eyes; only half of that order was correct. A part of him wanted to remedy that little situation, by placing his palms on either side of the woman's head, having his thumbs resting over her eyeballs. He began pressing his nails into the sockets, increasing the pressure every smidgen of a second. She closed her eyes instinctively, and cried harder knowing what he was about to do.

"Hmm." He furrowed his brow inquisitively. "No...no. Your eyeballs are fine the way they are." The young woman breathed a sigh of relief at that. "Turn around."

Her eyes widened in response. Again, she didn't dare move. A low, guttural growl escaped his lips. He placed his hands on her shoulders firmly, and forced her around himself, making sure she was staring in the opposite way.

Her whole body shook uncontrollably with fright. She felt him lean in, pushing her hair to the side and exposing one side of her neck. She exhaled sharply when he buried his face in the crook of it.

Eichhorst took in her scent. He detected traces of Irish, Scottish, and even a hint of Scandinavian flowing through her. _Bitter, mostly; finishes quite nicely at the end though_. He smiled to himself at the thought.

The young woman had absolutely no idea what her captor was up to; however, once he nestled against the flesh of her neck, she lost it. The woman screamed. She whirled herself around with balled fists, attempting to sock him in the face, but the undead gentleman dodged her blow. He caught one of her fists in his hands and he squeezed hard, causing her to yelp loudly. She could hear some of her bones crack softly, and this got her to almost double over in agony.

"You do not listen, do you?" said Eichhorst coldly, and shook his head at her disapprovingly.

He threw her to the edge of the bed, with her top half landing on the mattress. The young woman turned her face and saw from the corner of her eye, Eichhorst striding over to her. She just laid there, defeated. As he got closer, she squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed quietly, waiting for her inevitable end.

"Giving up already?" said a disappointed Eichhorst, and clicked his tongue at her. "Such a shame. The others before you were quite vexing in their attempts at escaping. Their actions were futile; however, I thoroughly enjoyed the fight. It makes me savor the victory even more."

She could feel his presence hovering over her, and a violent shiver raced down her spine. Oh, how he took pleasure in the fear!

He knelt in, pressing his chest into her back, and her blood ran cold at his touch. He moved his mouth to her ear, and he whispered huskily, "I'm sure you'll taste as lovely as you appear, my _Mahlzeit_."

He stood up, and she tensed. This was it. She was going to die, but not before being raped by this monster. He was going to rape her, and most likely murder her in the most horrifying ways.

Her crying grew louder in volume. Her body shook tremendously. _This was it_. Any minute now, he was going to lift up her skirt. Any minute he was going to undo his trousers. Any minute he was going to _violate_ her. The _waiting_ for all this to happen was _eating_ at her.

She waited...and waited...but nothing of the sort.

Instead, what her ears did pick up, was the sound of some animalistic groaning, followed by something being stretched, like flesh almost ripping. The sound was so unnaturally _revolting_.

Then something latched onto her neck, and her body became instantly paralyzed. Being raped was the furthest thing from her mind now. The very life in her was currently being sucked out by this "thing" on her throat; her veins were on _fire_! Either which way though, she truly felt herself letting go, but not by will. Her body was growing weaker and weaker, and the fight in her was dissipating.

Darkness welcomed her with open arms.

Eichhorst slowly retracted his stinger, his eyes still lingering on the young woman's body. He put his hands to her neck and snapped it with ease, just like all the other meals before her.

There was no doubt that this woman was beautiful, but she was a poor substitute to the "real" thing: Claire Wright. He assumed Claire at his side, and not this blonde _fraud_. A woman that not had blue eyes, but wasn't even a natural blonde. Claire was _right there_ in his grasp, yet she somehow slipped through his fingers.

Truth be told, he could have had this blonde substitute chained up in his private feeding room, but where was the fun in that? He liked it when his food had a little fight in them, and this one was no exception at that. He always enjoyed the feisty ones. Would Claire be like that? He should hope so.

Before he left the room, he glanced over his shoulder to the young woman's body one last time, reminding himself that he'll have to get someone to discard of it later.

Eichhorst returned to his suite, and was not at all surprised to see Kelly Goodweather there. She sat in one of the large, leather chairs in his living room, gazing out the window and into the night sky longingly. One of the Master's children, the feelers to which they were called, was also in the room, attending and comforting Kelly the best to its ability.

Eichhorst stood in the next room over, just watching them curiously. He knew why Kelly was out of sorts: she wanted her child, Zack- her "Dear One". He could hear her soft, animalistic, throaty cackles of sorrow as her eyes casted downwards to the feeler, cocking her head at it peculiarly. It obviously wanted Kelly to give it some sort of gesture; to know that it was doing its job. Unfortunately, Kelly did no such thing. She wanted her son, and the feeler was not proving to be a good substitute.

 _Substitute..._

Because Kelly couldn't whisk her son away a few nights ago when she managed to track him in the Red Hook district, she got angry. She first took her frustrations out on any humans nearby, feeding on them out of spite. When that rage subsided, it turned to need; _hunger_. She kidnapped children that resembled her son in some way and looked to them to fill that void she desperately wanted gone, but the feeling was only mutual after she fed on them. Feeding on substitutes was nothing like having the "real thing", and in her case, it was her son. With Eichhorst, it was Claire.

He almost peered down on Kelly with abhorrence. She was so outwardly with her resolve, unlike him. With Eichhorst, he kept up appearances as best as he could, and not become a withering fool that would fall apart if Claire wasn't within reach. He won't let the whole aspect of a "Dear One" get to him like that! He just _can't_ allow that!

Eichhorst straightened out his suit and sauntered over to Kelly, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We will return for your son," he said reassuringly. "I have plans for Red Hook..." Kelly didn't even acknowledge this, even though he knew she heard him.

Eichhorst walked on over to a window nearby and gazed out onto the city himself. "Are you thinking of me, Claire?" He wondered thoughtfully, forming a small grin on his lips. _"_ _Du wirst mein sein, Liebling."_

* * *

Claire's eyes fluttered open, and immediately noticed that she was sleeping on a dirty, tiled bathroom floor. It was such a small space, with only the basic essentials of a toilet and a sink to wash your hands. This was most likely some sort of "guest bathroom" of someone's home.

She laid there on the floor, staring straight ahead to the wall in front of her. Then her eyes began wandering to different parts of the bathroom, pondering if this was all real, or perhaps still just a dream of hers she has yet to wake from. After feeling the floor beneath the palms of her hands, and blinking every now and then to certain spots of the bathroom, she had come to the realization that this was _real_. She was not in the safety of her Massachussetts home with her family, but rather in a stranger's bathroom.

Then everything that had happened the night before slowly started to rear its ugly head...

After the hospital, Fet had driven back to his home in Red Hook, and the moment Claire had entered his place, she literally _lost her mind_. First there was the screaming that she did, then came all that crying on how hopeless everything seems; that everyone should just kill themselves because of this vampiric invasion. _All life as we know it is gone_. And then the worst of it for her: the vomiting. Oh yes, all that screaming and crying of insanities upset her system so much, it sent her flying to the nearest bathroom and upchucking everything that she ate that day, and then some.

What happened to Claire afterwards, even she couldn't recall, and she was thankful for that. She can't even imagine how much embarrasment she caused herself in front of everyone, or how they would view her now when she sees them again.

When more time had passed, Claire heard the bathroom door slowly open, and Fet poked his head inside. "You up?" Claire made a motion to look in Fet's general direction, though it wasn't enough to actually get a good look at him. Either way, her movements told him that she was indeed awake. "Ah! Welcome back to the land of the living!" He jest, coming into the cramped bathroom and shutting the door for some privacy. "How you feeling?"

Claire groaned irritably and managed to get herself into a sitting position. "Ugh...like the worst hangover ever," she answered groggily.

And she wasn't lying either: she remembered on her twenty-first birthday, her closest friends were more than thrilled she was finally at a legal age to go drinking with them, and so they brought her to a local bar for binge drinking. She drank and took shots 'till she couldn't drink no more, and still the drinks kept coming. All the girls shared a cab back to their homes, and Claire immediately went straight for the toilet. She scarecely remembered what actually happened that night, but she vowed she would never get drunk like that ever again!

A corner of Fet's lip curled up into a smirk. "Hangovers, huh," he said. "Know just the cure for that: loads of aspirin and some coffee. But in your case, maybe a hot shower and some coffee."

Claire couldn't help but let out a small giggle to that. She nodded approvingly. "Yeah...yeah, maybe that'll help." She brought up her legs to her chest, and she sighed. "What...what happened last night? I...I honestly don't remember much."

"You mean, after the hospital?"

"Yeah."

Now Fet was the one to breath in and exhale profoundly. "You sure you want me to tell you? It wasn't...pretty."

Claire squeezed her knees, readying for the worst to come out. "Yeah, I need to know."

Fet scratched the back of his neck with uncertainty. "Well, after we got back, you told your brother that your dad was murdered by the vampires. Your brother got angry and that was when..." he paused, not sure he wanted to actually finish his sentence. "...that was when you kinda went nuts."

Claire scoffed at the remark, even though she knew he put it at nicely as he could. She bobbed her head in acknowledgement. "And what happened then?"

Fet leaned against the door. "The short version of it all: you were yelling, you cried, went in here to vomit, and then you passed out."

Claire burried her face within her hands. "Oh my God," she moaned miserably, stiffling some sobs. "That is _so_ embarassing!"

"Don't sweat it, you know. We've all had our worst days-"

Claire suddenly shot him an angered look. "I'm sorry- did you ever go _insane_ in front of everyone, vomit, and then pass out at a toilet?" She snapped curtly.

Fet was taken aback by her words. "Uh-"

Claire then turned away shamefully at her outburst. "I'm...I'm sorry," she said sincerelly. "It's just..." She shook her head in disbelief. "I don't know..."

Fet crouched down. "I get it- I do," he said. "I don't know what to say to make you feel better though...but..." there was a pause again, with him unsure of the right words to say. "We're all trying to fight this thing from taking any more lives. We've seen enough damage done by those immortal bloodsuckers."

Claire sucked in her lips at the thought, and said sardonically, "So...this 'vampire virus', that's still real, huh?"

Fet let out a small chuckle to her sarcasm. "'Fraid so."

Claire gave a slight nod of her head, accepting that fact. She finally decided to stand up, although she almost doubled over; luckily Fet caught her in time. "I think I could use that shower now," she said.

"I'll show you where it is."

Fet opened the door and helped Claire along the way, afraid she was going to collaspe to the floor without his aide. He also took care to shield her from everyone until she was ready to face them herself. He walked her up the stair and led her to another bathroom, fully furnished with a bathtub and shower stall.

"Well, this is it," said Fet, stepping inside and stretching out his arms to the entirety of the bathroom. "Stall's your best bet. Water pressure is pretty shitty though; and, uh, the hot water gets drained pretty fast too."

"Greaaat," said Claire dryly, but quickly turned to face Fet with a grateful smile. "But thank you for helping me up here. Probably would of just...kept falling down if you hadn't."

"Hey, no problem. Always willin' to help a pretty girl in need," he said. Claire smiled brightly at his compliment, and couldn't hide the light blush that came to her cheeks. "Help yourself to whatever's in here. Brought some clothes you can change into. Hope something fits. If not, I can stop by somewhere-"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," said Claire, continuing to smile reassuringly at Fet. Fet nodded and started to leave the bathroom when Claired said, "Um...Mister Fet?"

Fet turned around with a sheepish smile. "It's just _Fet_ \- none of that 'mister' stuff."

"Oh, sorry- but...I just remembered something you said...and...Chris is not my brother; he's my cousin."

"Oh!" Now Fet was the one to feel slightly embarrased. "Sorry about that. I think you mentioned something about it before..."

Claire waved it off. "It-it's no problem, really. I just wanted to clear that up."

Fet headed for the door. "Alright, just holler if you need anything," and then Claire was left alone to her own devices.

Claire decided to examine her new surroundings, and she scowled. The bathroom itself certaintly isn't the messiest she has ever seen, but it is what it is: messy. There were heaps of clothes tossed in corners here and there, probably hoping someone or other does the laundry. Scattered across the sink and even sections of the floor were personal products of every kind, specifically more for women than men. There was junk everywhere in the bathroom, and Claire surmised that this room probably isn't the only one that's littered with everyone's things. Given the situation though, it was understandble why Fet's place would be cluttered with everyone's personal belongings.

After doing her bathroom inspection, Claire finally undressed and got into the shower, keeping in mind of Fet's warning that the hot water drained rather hastilly. Unfortunately, she did not realize how much Fet's words rung true; not more than five mintues did the hot water suddenly turn to ice cold, making Claire jump back and gasp in astonishment when it hit her skin. She had barely even touched the shampoo!

Claire hated this. She really did. All she wanted was her own little space, with a proper working shower for her to relax in, letting the warm sprays ease all her worries away. Instead, what she got now was the complete opposite; even the shampoos and soaps she had to use seemed to be of a very cheap quality, something that Claire did not approve of since she had delicate skin.

So now Claire had to miserably finish off her shower in cold water, trying to bear it as much as she could. After she shut off the water, she grabbed one of the nearest towels off the rack, and wrapped herself in it. It wasn't until then she realized that the towel was slightly damp from previously been used by someone else. She whined pathetically.

After trying on various articles of clothing, she settled on a pair of jeans that were a little too tight in the rear, and a baggy flannel shirt that most likely belonged to Fet himself. Again, another childish groan out of her, feeling like she wasn't in her own skin in these clothes. Nevertheless, once she was all through, she exited the bathroom and headed back downstairs.

Fet's home reminded Claire of a large, studio apartment, with the exception that there is a second floor. Because of numerous individuals, such as Setrakian, Eph, and Nora living under Fet's roof, there were all kinds of their clutter throughout his place. On top of kitchen counters were test tubes and beakers used for various experiments of some kind. Hanging on walls were all kinds of weapons and guns, obviously made to use against the vampires. The rest of the junk? Claire didn't care to know. The only thing that did matter to her was the desire to try and organize this mess everyone's created!

For so many people to live under one roof must take a toll on everyone's sanity; and the whole vampire debacle would just tact onto it.

No one really acknowledged Claire when she entered the room, only a few glances her way, nothing more. Setrakian sat at a small kitchen table with Nora, while Fet and Eph stood nearby. Chris was off in what appeared to be the living room portion of the household, playing some old gaming console. Sitting next to Chris was a younger boy, watching the TV intently. She was pondering whatever or not to go over and talk to Chris, to shed more light on the events that led to his father's death.

 _Yes_ , she did tell Chris that his father died trying to protect her from a vampire; however, she failed to mention the part about it being _all her fault_. She had failed to mention that she had somehow warranted the unwanted attention of a crazed monster. She had failed to mention that this "crazed monster" had found her, and since her uncle had gotten in between them, was murdered in cold blood as a result.

She didn't want Chris hating her any more than he already does. She knew that he blames her for his dad's death. She just didn't want to tell him about Eichhorst. If she has to keep that part a secret for the rest of her life, she'll do just that.

After another minute, she decided to leave him be for now, and went over to the table all the adults had gathered around, and she took an empty seat near Setrakian.

"I am certain they will return tonight, with renforcements, no doubt," said Setrakian, tapping the table with his finger for good measure.

Nora furrowed her brows with uncertainty. "But Feraldo has her men guarding the checkpoint. There haven't been _strigoi_ trying to pass through."

Setrakian exhaled quietly. "It is not enough. They will find a way, now that the formerMrs. Goodweather has seen her son here, she will do everything in her power to acquire him for herself." He turned to Eph. "We must see this Councilwoman Feraldo and convince her of this immenent attack."

"I don't think Feraldo is going to buy the whole 'Master' story," said Eph caustically. "I can still hardly grasp it myself."

Setrakian shook his head frustratingly. "We must, or else Red Hook will be infested with _strigoi_ by nightfall-"

"Excuse me!" Claire chimed in as politely as she could. Everyone turned their attention to her, with Setrakian being the only one to stare heatedly. Claire did her best to ignore the vicious look and continue, "I couldn't help but overhear that those vampire-things have been _here_ , yeah?" She said this as more of a statement than an actual question; nevertheless, she carried on before someone did decie to answer, "I thought it was safe here!" She exclaimed, and scoffed ironically, smiling as such. "I thought _we_ were safe here! Are you telling me they're going to come back _here_? Those vampire-things?!"

"Not one place on this planet is safe, Miss Wright," said Setrakian grimly. "They will find a way. They always do."

Claire paced back and forth in place, attempting to think hastily on the matter. "Well, then we have to find my aunt before you guys do anything else," said Claire determindely. "I need to find her before it gets dark again-!"

"Miss Wright!" Setrakian raised his voice, with a dash of annoyance to his tone. "Your relatives are not our concern," he stated harshly. "We do not have the time of day to escort you all over to find your loved one."

Claire breathed in and out heavily to prevent herself from breaking down. "Okay- then, what about just taking us to the police station; maybe she's there," she said. "Or, maybe back to the hotel we stayed at. Or, even that hospital. She has to be at least one of those."

Before Setrakian could go off on her angrily again, Fet stepped in. "I'll take you wherever you want to go."

"Mr. Fet!" Said Setrakian curtly. "We do not have time to cater to this young woman. "

"We'll meet up later, yeah?" He looked to both Eph and Setrakian on that one. "I won't be gone all day..." He left his words trail on there; even he was unsure how long it would be to take Claire and Chris to the places they wanted to go to. A part of him regreted offering his services, but he was too humble to take back his word.

Setrakian exhaled through his nostrils, not liking this decision. "Alright. We will meet back here later. No longer than mid afternoon. We must prepare incase things take a turn for the worse." He got up from his chair and went off somewhere, with Eph and Nora following.

Fet turned to Claire, whom clapped her hands together happily. "Oh my God! Thank you so much!" She cried gratefully. "You have no idea how much this means to us!"

"What's going on?"

Fet and Claire watched Chris walk up to them, crossing his arms once he stopped in front of them.

Claire kept her hands together as she said, "Fet is going to help us find your mom."

"Really?" Even Chris seemed shocked by that fact.

Fet rubbed the back of his head uneasily. "Now, don't get ahead of yourselves. I can't take you guys everywhere- the gas, you know," he said, chuckling at the end.

Claire stared at him pleading. "It's just a few places, at least: the hotel, the hospital, and maybe the police if we can't find her..."

The corner of Fet's lip curled into a smile. "Well...here's hoping."

* * *

Unfortunately, the day turned out to be a waste of time for Fet.

Their first stop was the hotel the Wright family stayed out. As soon as Fet drove down the street it was on, he was met with a blockade of police vehicles and a few millitary-issued ones. Apparently, they had quickly wiped out the remaining _strigoi_ in the building and decided to make it a headquarters for any millitary personel and officials. Claire had questioned if her aunt had come by, and produced a picture handy in her wallet as reference, but the police shook their heads; they hadn't seen anyone like that come around.

Their next stop was the hospital, but yet again, they were met with police vehicles surrounding the place. They couldn't even get close to the facility before they were stopped in the middle of the road by an officer. "Turn around," they ordered, waving their hands in such a way. "This area is officially under quaratine until the threat has been dealt with."

As Fet turned his vehicle around and drove the other way, he muttered under his breath, "Not good..."

It was after this that Fet had to call it a day for Claire and Chris. "Sorry," he said. "Gotta get back to the professor. We'll try looking another day."

Claire groaned. "But, by then..." she stared out the windows, watching all of New York pass by fleetingly. "...she might be dead..."

After getting back to his place, Fet regrouped with the others to discuss how they were to deal with the situation and what their plans were. Eventually, Setrakian and Eph left to try and convince this councilwoman Feraldo of a possible vampire ambush, while Fet and Nora would make sure all of Red Hook was secure, taking along Eph's son, Zack, with them.

"If he's with us, his mom won't come around here looking for him," Fet told Claire. "Don't know if you were listening, but the other night she came back here to get him. I guess it's part of the whole 'Dear One' that the professor talked about."

Claire blinked at him dumbfoundedly. "Um... 'Dear One'?"

"Oh! Guess you don't know about that, huh?" Fet sucked in his lips awakwardly, not sure how to explain the whole process of a "Dear One". "If I remember right: it's something to do with-" he stopped, thinking of a better way to explain. "When someone turns into one of those munchers, their love for someone turns to hunger for them. There's that, and if that muncher was related to someone, they come after them too. It's all about their DNA, I think."

Claire continued to stare at him, even more bewildered than ever. Fet took notice of her preplexed expression and couldn't help but feel slightly sheepish now. "Ah...I'm sure the professor can explain it better than I can."

It was then he left her with those words; he, and along with everyone else.

Claire and Chris were now alone in at his place.

Fet had reassured them, that as long as Zack was with him and Nora, then there should be no reason for any _strigoi_ to come around. "And just installed these," he had said, showing Claire and Chris the reinforced bars on all his windows. "There's no way any munchers can break through those. Made from titanium."

Even with his reassurance that Claire and Chris would be safe at his place, it wasn't enough. As the sky completely blanketed in darkness, it made Claire worry more on where the others could be and why they haven't returned yet.

"Fet said if everything went okay, they would be back by now," said Claire nervously, gazing out one of the windows, looking out for any sign of the others.

Chris, whom sat on the couch and ran his fingers against the texture of the furniture, said, "They're probably dead, you know-"

"Chris!" Claire cried sharply, spinning around to face him. "Don't say that!"

Chris shrugged nonchallantly. "Well, they could be."

Claire scoffed at him, and turned back around to the window. She crossed her arms. "I don't think they are. They seem like...strong people; like the type that don't die easily."

Chris got up and walked over to a stack of assorted weapons in a corner of the room. He scrutnized them curiously. "Do they really need all these to kill those... _vampires_?" He asked, hanging on the world 'vampire', for it was a term that just didn't sit right with him.

Claire went over to him and looked over the weapons, as well. "Fet told me these are all made out of silver," she said. "So, I would guess they would need as many as they can."

Then there was that awkward silence between them. Either of them really spent this much time together alone in the past; always with their family or at least someone else, but never just the two of them. Neither of them knew what to say to one another, especially with all that's happened.

Chris eventually broke the silence by asking, "Did dad...did he suffer?"

Claire turned to him, completely stunned by his question. Chris stared back at her, eager for an answer. "Did he?"

Claire sighed as she faced away from him, contemplating her words. "No," she said sternly. "He didn't."

She was lying, of course: he suffered immensely before he was killed. He should of been put out of his misery then and there, but Claire didn't know then what she knew now about this parasitic virus.

"Tch!"

Claire looked at him again when her cousin made that awful sound. "You're such a liar," he said harshly, and he strode away from her.

Claire threw her arms up in the arm. "What would you want me to say?" She said defensively.

"The truth!" Chris snapped back, plopping back on the couch. "You act like I can't handle it! I'm not a little kid."

"I know that!" Said Claire, and she crossed her arms. "I just...I didn't want you to know. You don't _need_ to know something like that..." She exhaled sadly, going back to the window to gaze out of it. "I'm just glad...you didn't have to be there to see."

 _"And know that it was all my fault."_

"Do you think mom is dead then?" Chris wondered quietly.

Claire's lips formed a straight line. "I hope not- I really do," she replied dejectedly. "But, if I know her, then I know she wouldn't go down without a fight. She's a strong woman."

"Dad was strong too," Chris added bitterly.

Claire closed her eyes. "He was...but...those things are stronger. No one can prepare for them."

Chris didn't buy it. "So what makes you think mom-"

It was then that the electricity was cut, and all lights went out.

* * *

 _AN: This is probably my longest chapter yet, and I gotta say: I really missed typing Eichhorst, lol. And don't worry, readers, he's going to be in every chapter from here on in! Hope you enjoyed!_


	12. Three Times The Charm

**Chapter Twelve:  
**

When everything went dark in Fet's hideout, both Claire and Chris gasped in fright. "What happened?" Chris asked nervously.

With only the moon's faint glow to guide her, Claire managed to stumble over to the nearest window and strained her eyes to see what was going on outside. "I...I don't know," replied Claire, her tone equally anxious. "I can't really see anything."

Chris joined her shortly after, both standing on other sides of the window to peek out cautiously, and waited for _any_ signs of life to give them some semblance of ease. They remained silent. Claire's hand went to her mouth so her own breathing couldn't be heard, and Chris practically held his in.

Then, through the misty blackness, a figure emerged: a large, dark shadow fumbled its way towards the warehouse. Before the two could breath a sigh of relief, the figure was followed by a few others like it, and they all moved unnaturally so. Eventually, these beings shrilled loudly into the chill air; a sound that made Chris and Claire exhale sharply.

"They're here!" Claire whispered breathlessly, and clutched her trembling hands together. "Oh my God! They're _here_!"

"The vampires?" Chris wondered fearfully, but he didn't have to ask twice; the look on Claire's face said enough.

Chris stood at the ready and searched nearby for a weapon. "Then, we should fight!" He said determinedly. "Let's kill those fuckers-!"

"Sshh!" Claire hissed. "Shut _up_! Do you want them to hear you?!"

"I don't care!" Chris stated boldly, trying to appear as such. "They killed dad! I want them to _die_!"

"SSSHH-!" Claire made a motion for him to silence, just as the two noticed one of the _strigoi_ becoming quite interested to their squabbling. They immediately moved away from the window, out of sight from the creature, and waited as silently as they could. After a minute passed, it moved on, giving them a brief interlude of peace.

"We should go upstairs and hide," Claire suggested. "At least until the power comes back or when Fet and them return-"

"And what if they're dead?" Said Chris bluntly. "What're we going to do then, _huh_?"

Claire opened her mouth to retort, however, the sounds of vampires scurrying about the roof caused her and Chris to jump in their shoes. They could hear the creatures climbing right above them, most likely trying to detect the presence of humans in the vicinity. The arrival of the creatures were accompanied by screams of torment coming from the distance.

"We-" Claire's words caught in her throat; terrified, knowing that they were completely trapped in the warehouse. "We need to hide- upstairs. _Now_."

Without a word of resentment, Chris quickly followed Claire up the stairs and into one of the neighboring rooms to hide in. Whose room it is or what it was used for, Claire hadn't a clue, for it was too dark to make anything out, except for tossed junk she couldn't make heads nor tails of.

"So...now what?" Said Chris, waiting on Claire to think of something else to do.

"I...I don't know," she mumbled. She listened intently on what their situation was. Shots were fired outside, with the sounds reverberating in all directions. Sirens blared and echoed, and the shrieks and shoutings of panicked people were all caught in between these horrible things.

"We should go out there and kill them!" Chris once again declared. "Other people are doing it-"

"And kill them with _what_?" Claire rebutted frustratingly. "Only silver hurts them. Even if we could help, what would we help them with? Fet and the others...they took all the weapons..." She trailed off, realizing that she still had the blade that Fet had given to her at the hospital. After those events, Claire made sure to keep it close.

She withdrew the blade she tucked into the hip of her jeans, and the silver gleamed from the trickle of moonlight in the room. Chris stared at it in awe. "Where'd you get that?" He asked.

"Fet gave it to me at the hospital, when we came to get you," she said. "But...this isn't enough to kill those monsters. This is only good in emergencies."

"I think this is an emergency!" Chris exasperated, and made a motion to take it from her. "If you're not going to use it, then give it to me!"

"SSSHH!" Claire hushed him once again, retracting the arm holding the weapon. "What is wrong with you? Shut _up_ , or they'll hear you!"

"I don't care!" Chris shouted. "I _seriously_ don't care. Let them hear! I _want_ them to come in!"

"How can you say that?!" Claire now cried desperately. "Trish- your _mom_ , wouldn't want you to just throw yourself into danger like that! What is wrong with you?!"

The two continued to quarrel like bratty children. Claire kept trying to calm Chris down, all the while the young man continued to make grabs for Claire's weapon. He wanted to go and fight, not hide out like cowardly animals. To show those vampires that he wasn't afraid of them. He wanted to avenge his dad.

Amidst their arguing, the front door of the warehouse opened up, and someone or some _thing_ entered.

"A230385? Are you here?" A menacing, heavy accented voice called out.

Claire and Chris instantly froze. Claire's eyes became like saucers, and her heart began pounding in her chest fiercely. She recognized that voice; there was no mistaking it.

"Are you hiding, Jew?" The German voice taunted. "That would be most unworthy of you."

Eichhorst was _here_.

"Who the hell is that?" Wondered an unhinged Chris.

"Ah-" Claire's mouth opened to only utter a garbled sound. She was too petrified to utter words of comprehension. _He_ was just beneath them. With every step that he took, those horrible memories came flooding back to Claire's mind.

Flashes of Eichhorst. Flashes of him approaching her so eloquently; however predatory. The instances of him standing in front of her, lifting her off the ground with inhuman ease. The ways in which he spoke to her, and the feel of him against her body when he inhaled her scent. Reminiscing almost sent her into a complete panic.

Claire let out a soft, frightened squeal, and she hugged herself tightly.

"What the hell? What's wrong with you?" Asked Chris, his brows furrowing in puzzlement. "Do you know who's downstairs?"

Claire knew she had to speak up, lest Chris would most likely head downstairs and find out the answer himself. She finally managed to form some words. "H-he...he..."

"He killed dad?!" Chris blurted out anxiously, putting words into her mouth.

Without even thinking, Claire shook her head, although regrettably. "N-no," she answered hesitantly. "But...he's one of them! That man- downstairs- I _saw_ him...kill people, just like those things outside..."

Chris looked to the door of the room they were currently hiding, then back to Claire. "You think he's gonna come up here?"

Claire exhaled with a heavy heart. "Most likely..." she murmured solemnly, and she stood up, gripping the silver-bladed weapon tightly in her hands. "But he won't go for you if he notices me."

Chris was about to say something in protest to that, but it seemed that Claire already read his mind. "And you're staying here!" She commanded harshly, giving Chris a stern look. "And if I don't come back..." she paused, her breath faltering. "Just...stay up here."

Chris neither acknowledged nor agreed to her terms, he just gave her a quizzical expression, one filled with anxiousness, furry, and perhaps fear for his older cousin; the latter was something Claire hoped he felt for her.

Claire exited the room and carefully shut the door behind her. She prayed what she was about to do would protect Chris, and perhaps, put an end to Eichhorst, even if it meant forfeiting her own life.

She peeked downstairs, and when the bottom landing was clear of anyone, Claire swiftly made her way to the first floor. Her footsteps careful and light like a thief in the night.

She hid behind the nearest thing, which was the kitchen counter, and knelt there. She glanced around its corners, squinting in the darkness to find Eichhorst, but she couldn't see him, nor hear him for that matter. This bothered her tremendously. She inhaled sharply in fear of his whereabouts. He certainly couldn't have left already...could he?

Claire decided to round a corner and begin to survey the rest of the open floor to make sure it was absolutely clear of any intruders, but she needn't search long. Almost at the other end of the room, there was a small office where Abraham Setrakian did his research on the vampires and their Master. In there, hunched over a desk, was Eichhorst. The German appeared to be rummaging through the mess on top, perhaps inquiring as to what the professor had been up to, and getting rid of information that he felt was vital to his Master's demise.

With the weapon more firmly In her hand, she crept ever so quietly to the intruder, making sure to sneak up from behind when the chance arouse.

Eichhorst turned his back to Claire when he opened up the small desk drawers to investigate its contents. The only thing that really caught his eye was a lone black and white photo of a young, beautiful woman. He took it in his hands to view better. "Miriam," he whispered, with a hint of sorrow to his tone. "She was such a lovely young girl..."

Miriam? Claire never heard the name before, and assumed it was someone that meant a lot to the professor; but for Eichhorst to know the same person? Claire couldn't wrap her head around that, nor did she want to.

Nevertheless, she knew this was the time to strike.

She sucked in some air, and practically held in her breath as she made her way over to the man. With each step she took, an overwhelming sensation of dread and panic washed over her, wanting to burst out. It was growing increasingly difficult for her to keep her composure; even the dagger in her hands was slipping due to her clammy palms.

When she grew close enough, she stood up and lashed out, putting all her pent-up hatred and fears of the man into her one attempt of seriously injuring him.

Eichhorst whipped around and made a grab at her arms, making sure to keep the weapon well enough away from his silver-sensitive skin.

They both struggled, but Eichhorst eventually got the upper hand by throwing Claire onto the desk. This didn't deter her, and they both continued to test one another on a matter of endurance; a contest which Claire would surely lose.

Eichhorst grinned excitedly at her. "Claire!," He said ecstatically, "How marvelous to see you again! -Here, of all places!"

He pinned her arms out, and started squeezing the wrist that held the weapon. When she wouldn't let up, he increased the pressure, furthering her discomfort.

"You are most tenacious!" Eichhorst commended, putting even more strain on her fragile limb. "But how far will you carry on with this bravado?"

A whimper finally escaped past her lips when the pain started to become too unbearable for her. When she heard the bone in her wrist make a terrible cracking sound, she shrieked in agony. A wave of excruciating pain emanated from her wrist and traveled throughout the rest of her arm. She couldn't hold out anymore.

Her fingers instantly released the silver-bladed dagger, and Eichhorst kicked it away for good measure. Now that her only way of defending herself was out of reach, he used his other hand to grip her throat tightly. It didn't phase him at all that she tried to claw and hit him with her free hand.

It took only mere seconds for her to lose the energy to fight him off, and once she settled, Eichhorst spoke. "Did you not think that I wouldn't notice your scent? The beatings of your heart?" The fingers around her throat probed for that pulse-point on her, and once he felt it beneath his smooth tips, he held it there. Claire's mouth fell open in abhorrence. "They won't leave me, _liebling_. They are etched into me, like knives to the flesh."

He peered into her eyes, almost longingly. He became intoxicated by her scent alone, and it was driving him mad with _hunger_ and _lust_ to taste her. A throaty, animalistic cackle of desire resonated from him, and it made Claire fearful of her life. She flinched when he reached out a hand to caress her face, but decided not to linger long or else he wouldn't be able to hold himself back from tearing into her.

He leaned down, intending to press his nose into the crook of her neck to inhale the aroma she carried. As he closed the distance though, Claire turned her head to the side in fright. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" She shrilled, with little hics of sobbing trailing after her words.

Eichhorst stopped and stared at her, confounded. Claire sucked in her trembling lips, holding back her sobs as best she could. "My dearest Claire," said Eichhorst in feign earnestness. "I have no intention of any wrongdoing unto you...at the moment. I had not anticipated you being in the prescience of my dear 'colleague'. If I had known..." He brushed the back of his hand uncharacteristically gentle against her cheek. "I would of already whisked you away; however, y _ou_ are not what I have come for this evening." His expression fell into that of a sneer. "Where is the Jew?"

Claire gagged for air when he grasped her throat tighter. Knowing he wasn't going to take her silence for an answer, she responded in a scratchy voice, "I-I don't know."

His eyes narrowed dangerously at her. Without warning, he added more weight to her already strained neck, making it harder for her to breathe. She kicked her legs and arms widely out of her own body's fight-or-flight reflexes, hoping to connect with any part of him, but her efforts didn't reach him.

"I have little patience for your-"

"I'm telling the truth!" She stressed in desperation.

He contemplated on her words, staring at her keenly.

He ended up smiling again, showing his pearly whites in the process. He leaned into her, causing Claire's body to flinch, wondering what he'll do next.

He stroked her hair attentively, running his fingers through it leisurely. "Of course," he said in a sickeningly sweet tone, as if speaking to a child. "Why would you lie to your own _Großvati_."

Was he speaking this way to gain some form of trust from her? Or was he mocking her? Claire began to choke when his hand didn't alleviate from her throat at the slightest. "I'm not lying!" She pleaded as loudly as she could. "We don't know where the Professor went! He never told us!"

" _'_ _We'_?" Eichhorst's brow arched inquisitively. "So you are not alone here?"

Claire's eyes widened in horror at what she done. "I...I-"

"Who else is here? Where are they hiding?"

Claire remained quiet, becoming lost in her own guilty thoughts.

Eichhorst continued to goad her. "Is it Goodweather's child? Or perhaps..." He paused, studying all the little features of her face for an honest response. "Someone close to you?..." Claire couldn't contain the sudden hitch of her breath, and Eichhorst's smile turned to that of a wicked grin. "I see… Managed to find a loved one, did you?"

Claire began to panic. "No! No-"

"Who is it? Your dearest aunt or-"

Eichhorst got his answer in the most unlikely of ways, by a wire hanger being thrown over his own throat, and dragged abruptly away from Claire. "Get off her, you freak!" Chris shouted, continuing to tighten the wire's hold on Eichhorst.

The girl rolled off the desk and crashed hard to the floor, coughing profusely with the oxygen rushing back to her lungs. "C-Chris!" Claire wheezed, immediately hacking afterwards.

An animalistic growl came from Eichhorst as he ripped the wire hanger from himself, and whirled around to face the boy. " _Elender Junge_!" He cried furiously, and struck Chris across the face _hard_ , sending him flying across the room.

Seeing Chris in danger, Claire tried to get up, but as soon as she put any kind of pressure on her bad wrist, she crumbled right back down.

With Chris in a stupor, Eichhorst stood before him and slammed a foot down on his forearm, and Chris hollered in incredible pain. More than likely, the tall gentleman broke it. Even though immense, Chris bit his tongue to not let himself sob over his suffering.

Eichhorst hauled the boy up by his broken arm and pinned it painfully behind Chris's back, heigtening his torment.

Chris struggled with him, however pointless. "Mother _fucker_!" Chris growled at Eichhorst through clenched teeth.

"I can clearly see that you are indeed your father's son," said Eichhorst haughtily. "You have that ill temper of his, as well."

"What the hell you talking about?" Chris barked.

Eichhorst tilted his head, ever curious. "Oh? Did Claire not tell you?"

Chris jerked himself in one direction, hoping it would loosen his captor's hold, before replying, "She told me you're one of those _things_ running around out there."

"Nothing else?" Eichhorst pressed.

Chris didn't speak up, and Eichhorst took it as a 'yes'. He looked onto Claire, somewhat astounded. "I'm quite surprised, failing to tell this one here who I am to you."

Chris was completely puzzled. "What?-"

While still having a firm grasp on his arms, he turned Chris around so he stood facing Claire; his back straight to Eichhorst's. The man grinned gleefully, and leaned into the boy. "I'm Thomas Eichhorst..." he nodded over to the young woman. "And to my astonishment, Claire is my granddaughter."

Chris stared at Claire in absolute horror. " _What_?"

"When I had learned that she sought out for me, I could not resist keeping myself away to meet this lovely young woman; however..." His expression became scornful. "Your father intruded on our engagement. Like any proud parent, he tried to defend her honor, so I decided put an end to that."

Chris froze at those last words, and he started breathing harder. His blind fury was rapidly building up.

Eichhorst moved in more towards his ear. "Your father died in the most agonizing pain...as you will."

Chris lost it. "YOU SON OF A-!" Rage burst out of him, and he couldn't help but thrash wildly in Eichhorst's arms. The older man twisted the boy's broken arm in response, causing Chris to double. If it wasn't for Eichhorst having a hold on him, he would of collapsed to the floor in agony.

Claire bolted up from the floor, holding out her hands for Eichhorst to stop. "Stop!" She pleaded tearfully. "Please! _Please_!" Then her tone became frantic, and she started gesticulating with her hands. "I'll-I'll do whatever you want. _Whatever_ you _want_. I'll go with you, quietly. You can do what you want with me, but _please_ , don't hurt him!" She balled up her fists and put them to her mouth, dreading what the malicious monster before he would do. "Please. Please, please, please, please, please..."

Eichhorst smiled at her pitifully. "My _liebling_..." he purred softly, his words anything but soothing to Claire. "Haven't I already told you: you cannot truly be by my side, if your Dear Ones are left living for you to cling on to. They must be dealt with a swift hand." He then removed his hands on Chris only for them to go to the boy's head, and gripped it firmly. Chris became paralyzed to the spot as what was about to come next.

Claire became mortified at the sight she was about to behold. "NO! DON'T! PLEASE, DON'T! _DON'T_!" She screamed at the top of her lungs.

The motion in which would of ended Chris's life would have been quick and to the point for Eichhorst; however, the bullet that penetrated the warehouse window and into his shoulder is what stopped him entirely from doing so. Eichhorst hollered angrily as the bullet sizzled and burned his skin. He had to release Chris in order to dodge another bullet that came at him.

The warehouse door burst open. "Claire!" Fet called out.

"Fet!" Claire cried happily, relieved help had arrived.

Eichhorst snarled and backed away from the younger ones as he watched Fet, Eph, and Nora come rushing through with their weapons at the ready.

Nora took aim at Eichhorst and fired, but the German was already out the door, with Eph running after him.

Fet and Nora dashed over to Claire and Chris, and upon reaching them, Claire fell to her knees in complete exhaustion. "Fet..." she sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "Fet!-"

Fet rushed to her side. "Hey, hey! You're alright, we're here now," he reassured her. "You're safe now."

As Fet talked to Claire and checked her for injuries, the young woman looked over to Chris, whom was being tended to by Nora.

Claire's eyes scanned over her cousin, to his broken and battered arm, the bruises on his body, the busted lip, and then finally, his eyes. Chris's eyes stared back with such _hatred_ for her. The intensity was strong, and knew it wouldn't dissipate any time soon. Knowing that she was the cause of all this, for the death of his dad.

As they continued to gaze at one another, one thing was for sure: Claire is, and would be, the death of her family.


	13. Lithium

_Story/chapter title inspired by: "Lithium" by Nirvana_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen:  
**

 _I like it, I'm not gonna crack  
_

 _I miss you, I'm not gonna crack_

 _I love you, I'm not gonna crack_

 _I killed you, I'm not gonna crack_

 _Two days later..._

Eichhorst sat motionless at his ornate vanity, gazing at his own _genuine_ reflection. Every time he looked upon it, he felt _whole,_ he felt _content_ , but most of all, he had _purpose_.

Then his charcoal eyes cast downwards, scanning the contents of all that was in front of him, and he let out a rather jaded sigh. It grew tiresome for him to don his facade over and _over_ again, but knew it was necessary to keep up the guise of a human gentleman. The makeup also served as a reminder of his glory days, which in turn, was the small spark that spurred him to carry on with his efforts.

Even though the years right before his transformation were his finest; however, before those times as a Nazi Commandant, his life had been in complete shambles. A man whom could scarcely hold down a job. Couldn't really talk down or stand up to anybody, even those he deemed inferior to him. He never understood why he was that way; perhaps it was the fact that he had no proper direction at the time.

He had thought the speeches spoken by Adolph Hitler were his calling, but it was through the Reich that he had found his _true_ calling: the Master. To discipline, manage, and herd humanity to serve a higher race of beings. When Eichhorst had listened to the Master's plan, he was more than ecstatic to join them; to _become_ them.

Eichhorst was bestowed upon powers and knowledge beyond his wildest dreams. He had been born _anew_. Gone were those earthly flaws and consciousness that dragged him down. Away were the emotions and feelings that could bring humans to their knees.

 _And yet…_

He glimpsed a small picture of Claire he kept close by; a reminder of what remained of his past life, and to what he currently didn't posses.

Examining the picture brought back memories he wished he could dispose of: desire, lust, the touch of a woman. Reminiscing only furthered his anguish. Little things he yearned to feel again in this monstrous form. He hated the fact that this young woman spurned memories of humanly pleasures. When ones nerves were heightened by sheer _arousal_ , Eichhorst craved to feel that again now.

He missed what if felt like to breathe, and now...he missed the feeling of absolute ecstasy. If beings, such as him, could feel pain, why not pleasure? Werner Dreverhaven, Eichhorst's Nazi "physician" counterpart, enjoyed the gratification of torturing others; even the Master relished in human agony from time to time. Pondering on it, Eichhorst too, could be a bit of a sadist in his own way. Every time his next meal would panic, scream, and even try to fight him off, it gave him such a _high_ that he thrived on. Was this their only form of "pleasure?"

He took the small picture into his hands and just continued to stare intensely at it. He wanted the real thing. He was getting frustrated with only chance encounters with her. To just be near her for only a short time was not enough; but for her to be in the company of that Jew and his cohorts? He was _livid_.

Or was he?

When Eichhorst had learned that Claire was not at the hotel anymore, he was disheartened, to say the least, but nothing to fret over. He did not, even at the slightest, ever imagine that Claire would be with the professor and Goodweather. Of all _places_ … Of all _people_ to be with… He smiled at the irony of it.

Now that he knew where she resided, there was the matter of how he was going to acquire her. Ever since the _strigoi_ ambush at Red Hook, security had increased tenfold, and traveling to the small island was no easy feet for them anymore (not that it was in the first place). Being the helpless, vulnerable girl she is, there was no chance she would leave the safety of the island.

The only thing left to do is to coax Claire out of hiding. Unfortunately, Eichhorst couldn't come up with anything at the top of his head.

Then he remembered a conversation he had with Palmer the other day…

 _In Palmer's office at the Stoneheart building, both_ _Palmer_ _and Eichhorst had gone over the construction of their human processing plant_ _in_ _the near future._ _While making adjustments to their blueprints,_ _Palmer couldn't help but notice that the German's attitude towards him had been a bit more snippy than usual. Of course their meetings between_ _them_ _were always tense, considering their dislike for one another._ _With each encounter they had,_ _Eichhorst always kept his emotions in check._

 _This time, however, was not the case._

 _"You seem to be in a rather foul mood today,"_ _said Palmer a matter-of-factly_ _. "Missed a meal, by chance?"_

 _"That is none of your concern," Eichhorst replied coldly, continuing to keep focus on the blueprints across Palmer's desk._

 _A smug smirk crept up on Palmer's face, knowing he had pushed one of Eichhorst's buttons there. "You are practically my only means to the Master," Palmer pointed out, "If any of your issues jeopardizes all that we have worked for-"_

 _Eichhorst snapped his head at Palmer, and eyes bore into the old man's heatedly. "I can assure you, my personal affairs_ _are never above_ _the_ _Master."_ _Then he peered down at the_ _desk_ _again._

 _"_ _Hmm..."_

 _Eichhorst peeked at Palmer out of the corner of his eye. "Are you quite finished?"_

 _After a few more moments of silence, Palmer said, "It's that female, isn't it? The one that claims to be your relative?" Eichhorst's body flinched upon his response, and Palmer caught it all-too happily. "I couldn't help notice ever since that day, there had been an influx of young, blonde women hauled out of your estate."_

 _Eichhorst felt a flurry of anger rise up within him. He figured Palmer would want to keep tabs on him, but to spy on him? What goes on in Eichhorst's own private residence was his own business, and not anyone else. Palmer had no right!_

 _"Been watching me, have you?" Eichhorst huffed._

 _"I prefer to think it as 'keeping a close eye on my_ partners _'," Palmer stated nonchalantly._

 _After that bout of anger, Eichhorst went back to tweaking parts of the blueprints._

 _Palmer rolled his wheelchair next to Eichhorst's side. "I would hate to think that a mere woman could cause such distress in you," Palmer said in a mocking tone. Eichhorst remained silent. "If ever you should need my services to acquire this young woman, all you have to do is ask, 'old friend'. I am more than willing to aid you in your times of need." And with a smug smile on his face, Palmer rolled back to his desk to look over the changes Eichhorst made._

Eichhorst grimaced. To ask for Palmer's assistance on obtaining Claire would be the most humiliating for him. He knew Palmer would love nothing more then to see the German get down on his knees and beg for his help. There was no chance Eichhorst could do that. He had his pride and humility to keep in check.

 _However…_

Every time he was "torn" away from Claire, he grew more and more impatient to have her. Her succulent flesh, her beautiful face, and her intoxicating aroma. Every time he got a whiff of her, it drove him nearly mad with such carnal cravings. Just thinking about it was practically making his mouth water. To let such a "fine wine" escape from his grasp…

He didn't need Palmer. Eichhorst did have a few of his own connections to get in touch with. He turned towards the landline phone in his room; an idea forming in his head. There was only _one_ that could get Claire off that island.

* * *

Claire had the most awful dream the other night. She and her family had returned home, safe and sound. There was never any vampire or _strigoi_ invasion of any kind. During their stay in New York, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. It was the best vacation she had ever had.

She was more than enthusiastic to return to university with a renewed invigoration. When class started, Claire was lost in her own mind while the teacher gave his lecture and wrote things down on the board for students to take notes. One of the classmates sitting next to her gave her a small nudge, causing her to come back to reality, and Claire quickly began taking notes as well.

As Claire focused on her work, the teacher had approached her without making a single sound. "If you thought escaping here will save you, then you have mistaken-" Her eyes shifted upwards, and there stood Eichhorst, grinning wickedly as usual. "- _Liebling_."

Claire shot up from her seat in terror, and tried to make a mad dash for the door, but Eichhorst grabbed her arm and jerked her body into his own. As he held her against him, she realized that all the other students around her turned into vampires themselves, snarling and clicking their tongues at her in hunger.

"No. No!" Claire shrieked, struggling to free herself from Eichhorst's embrace. She looked up at him, and to her absolute horror, he opened his mouth and that revolting appendage of his slowly snaked out. When the tip found that sweet spot in her throat, it didn't waste any time in burying itself deep inside her, draining her blood, her _life_ away.

Her mouth was left agape, speechless upon the attack. Her eyes remained fixated on his face though, and that horrible smile was the last thing she remembered.

Then she woke up.

It was a miracle at all if Claire should get any sleep, but to sleep and then dream something like that? What was the point of resting if it should create things such as that? If Eichhorst were to invade her dreams and turn them into nightmares, she never wanted to close her eyes again.

She took a shower to forget them. She let the water wash down her body, wanting to forget the way his _touch_ felt on her. Her fingertips brushed her throat and a shiver went down her spine. The way he grips her neck, and that look in his eyes, like an animal yearning to eat what was in front of him, but holds himself back. She wonders why he doesn't just drink her then and there, and then something dawns on her: he most likely had other ideas for her. Claire shuddered to think what they could be.

Claire's shower was suddenly cut short by the water turning ice cold, with the shock almost causing her to slip within the tub. She quickly hopped out of there and fetched the nearest towel to wrap up in. Once it was secured around her, she growled and threw her arms down in frustration. God, she wanted a better place to shower! A nice, hot shower, and her own comfortable room to sleep in- was that too much to ask?

She was about to change into a set of clothes she set aside for herself, but upon going through it, she realized she forgot an article of clothing. "Ah...crap..." she grumbled to herself.

Without thinking, she opened the door of the bathroom, hoping to sprint to the nearest bedroom. What ended up happening, though, was Claire colliding into another woman.

"Whoa!" The other woman cried, straightening herself out.

"I'm so sorry, I just-" Claire stopped herself. Upon closer look, she noticed she'd never seen _this_ woman before. A blonde woman, just like her, and appeared a bit older too. This blonde, older woman was still very beautiful, none the less, and carried an English accent to boot. Claire felt a tinge of jealousy pique through her.

"You in a rush?" The older girl asked with a cheeky smile.

"Um...no, I just..." Claire's gaze went elsewhere, embarrassed to say what was on her mind.

"I don't think we met," said the woman, putting out a hand. "I'm Dutch."

Claire was hesitant on her boldness before finally shaking her hand. "I'm Claire."

"So, how did you end up here?-"

"Look," Claire interrupted urgently. "I...really need to go back to the bathroom now… Oh, wait, I can't! I forgot my-" she was about to say it, but clamped her mouth shut.

"Forgot what? If you want, I can get it for ya," said Dutch."

Claire blushed, although she didn't know why. She mumbled something under her breath, but Dutch didn't quite catch it. "What?-"

"My underwear," Claire blurted out loudly. "I forgot to grab a fresh pair before I showered, so..."

Dutch snickered. "Your knickers? Is that all?" She didn't know why Claire was modest about it. "Hold on, I'll grab ya some."

Claire tiptoed back to the bathroom while she waited for Dutch to grab her a pair of underwear. She didn't have to wait long, before Dutch poked her head into the bathroom and held out a pair of rather risque looking panties.

Claire frowned. "Normally I'd just take it, but is this really the time and place to wear sexy underwear?"

Dutch rolled her eyes. "They're _clean_ , and there's nothing wrong with wanting to flaunt your stuff." She winked at Claire.

Claire scoffed in response. "Fine," said a defeated Claire, taking the underwear from her.

Dutch continued to smile as she shut the bathroom door, giving Claire some privacy to change. Once she finished and left, she half expected to find Dutch still lingering around, but to the contrary, she wasn't in sight. Claire figured she had other things to do then to hang around a bathroom for no particular reason.

She decided to go downstairs to see what everyone would be up to today, as she started to do recently. She was stunned to see that Fet's place was scarce, except for Setrakian sitting at the kitchen table, going over his personal notes.

With nothing better to do, she sat down across from him, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "Where is everybody?" She asked him.

Without looking up, he replied, "They all have their own errands. I believe your...cousin accompanied the doctors and Zack on reconnaissance with Feraldo."

"About the vampires, you mean?"

"Yes," the professor answered curtly, clearly not wanting to be disturbed.

"You know, the whole thing with them, and this 'Master', it reminds me of this story I found on the internet..." She paused, waiting for Setrakian to inquire or give her his undivided attention, but his nose was stuck in his notes. She continued anyway, "It's the legend of Datasushi. You ever heard of it?"

"I don't believe I have," he said. "I'm assuming it's a fictitious tale?"

Claire shrugged a shoulder. "Most likely- but then again, I thought all _this_ -" she gestured to everything around her. "-was fictitious. Do you want to hear about it then?"

"Not really, no."

Claire looked disappointed. "Oh..."

She sat there in the chair quietly. Out from the corner of his eye, Setrakian lifted his head and stared forward, irked by her presence alone now. "Is there something else on your mind?"

Claire fidgeted nervously with her hands. "I don't mean to be a bother to you or anything," she said apologetically. "I just...did Chris look alright to you at all before he left?"

The professor was quiet for a moment. "He is still the same as days before, if that's what you're asking. It takes time for a broken arm to heal."

Claire sighed dejectedly and slouched in her seat. Ever since Chris had found out that she was the cause for his family being in mortal danger, he couldn't even describe the hatred that he felt towards her. He was so furious, so disheartened, so traumatized by the sudden, recent events, that now he's not much on speaking terms; especially with Claire. And if that wasn't bad enough, Eichhorst had ended up breaking Chris's arm.

Claire gazed down at her hurt wrist and rubbed it gently. She thought Eichhorst had broken it, but after Nora examined her, Claire just had some bone bruising. It was nothing compared to the pain Chris had, and she could barely contain the guilt she felt for her family. If it wasn't for her trying to find that horrible German, her family would still be alive; maybe they all would of escaped New York before the _strigoi_ outbreak.

Claire sniffled. She can feel the tears beginning to well themselves in her eyes, causing a strong, unpleasant tingling sensation. "Maybe..." Setrakian looked at her. "Maybe if I hand myself over to Eichhorst, maybe...maybe he'll leave my family alone. If I plead to him..."

Setrakian exhaled wearily. "There is no use attempting to reason with their kind," he stated firmly. "They can promise whatever you wish to hear, but they will not bide by it. You cannot trust their word. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and began to cry, knowing what he says is the truth. Deep down though, she wished he could of told her sweet nothings, just for her benefit. "Then, what am I supposed to do?" She asked woefully.

"You keep those that are alive, those that you love, close to you," said Setrakian. "And don't let them out of your sight."

Claire scoffed ironically. "I can barely keep myself safe. How am I supposed to keep my family safe? And what about my aunt? She could still be alive out there."

Setrakian didn't know how to respond to that. "Miss Wright, I feel I have entertained you enough, but now, I must return to my work. If you'll excuse me." He rose from the table. It took a minute for him to collect all his belongings, and he made his way to his private study.

"Wait!" Claire called out after him. Setrakian halted in his tracks, and turned towards her. She took a deep breath to prepare herself for what she was about to ask. "What does... _lee-bling_ mean?"

Setrakian had to weigh on her question, making sure he heard correctly. "Are you speaking of the German term ' _liebling_ '? I suppose you heard this from Eichhorst?" Claire nodded hesitantly, and he made a face of discontent. "It has several meanings. I believe the term often used most is ' _darling'_."

Claire had figured the answer wouldn't be good. "Oh." Her voice trembled, and she turned herself around in the chair. "I...see..."

After he had left, she stood up and went into the kitchen in attempt to forge something to eat. She knew everyone was trying to ration every bit of food they could in these dire days, and every time her stomach growled, her shame surfaced. As she took out a box of some corn flakes cereal, she held it in her hands and truly did feel like a leech among them. She didn't belong in "their world."

Claire heard the front door of the warehouse open up, and smiled when she saw it was Fet.

He smiled back pleasantly. "Hey," he said, waving a hand lazily at her.

"Hey," she returned back, and began to poor herself a bowl of cereal.

"How you holding up?" Fet asked, coming into the kitchen.

"Miserably," Claire grumbled, going back to the table with her bowl. "Chris hates me, and I can't blame him. I'm getting his family killed off because of something stupid I did." She couldn't help but speak sarcastically on this, even though it pained her deeply.

Fet didn't know how to reply to that. "Sorry to hear that."

Claire sat down, spinning the spoon around in her bowl. "Don't be. If I was you, I wouldn't really know what to say either."

"Is he here? Chris?"

She shook her head. "The professor said Chris went with Zack and the doctors to...I don't know..." her face reddened on that last bit, feeling embarrassed she forgot what they were doing.

"Ah, they're seeing Feraldo to better security," he said.

Finally, she took a bite of cereal. "Okay..." She was dreading Chris' return, knowing she would have to deal with his silent hatred towards her. If only she could make things right…

As Fet was about to join Claire at the table, the phone rang, a sound Fet didn't often hear anymore since everything went to hell. His brows furrowed suspiciously as he strode over to the dated looking thing, and he picked up the handset. "Yeah?" No greeting, no _nothing_ , on his end.

Silence, as he listened, followed by a, "Yeah, I'm Vasily Fet..."

Claire was only half listening to the conversation, concentrating on eating as much as possible before it got soggy in the milk.

"… Wait- who?"

As she finished her bowl, Fet called out to her. "Claire."

"Yeah?" She turned her head towards him, and seeing the most perplexed look on his face, made her feel very uneasy. "What?" He didn't answer, making her more nervous. "What is it?"

He held out the phone to her. "It's your aunt."


	14. Best Laid Plans

**Chapter Fourteen:  
**

 _Earlier that day…_

Trish Wright couldn't remember the last time she got a decent night's rest…

Ever since she got separated from her son, Chris, at the hospital, in a flurry of movements she couldn't quite piece back together in her head, she ended up just outside New York with other evacuees. When she had realized what had happened, her head a bit clearer, her eyes bulged out of her head in absolute horror.

"No...no!" She had stumbled up to an officer, practically grabbing onto his uniform in drunken desperation. "I have to get back in there! My family- my family is still there! You have to get my fam-!"

"Ma'am, you have to stay back!" The officer ordered her harshly, putting some distance between them. "As of now, most of the state's been quarantined until we get the situation under control. No civilians are to reenter without the correct documentation, or consent from the state officials."

"Documentation…?" Trish murmured to herself, walking away from the officer in a daze. She put a hand to her head, and shook it slowly in disbelief.

She couldn't believe it. Just days ago, _days_ , everything with everyone was fine. Everyone was _happy_. She didn't understand how everything went to hell so suddenly. Now separated from her family because of those _"things"_ , she had no idea how she was going to resolve this, let alone, by herself.

 _Vampires…_

Trish held back on sobbing, breathing in deeply to remain serene. "And people are calling them 'vampires'? Just...what the hell is going on?"

For days, all Trish could do was to beg to be let back in; beg, plead, grovel- whatever word could be used. When that wasn't getting her anywhere, she ultimately attempted to sneak back in New York, but to no effort. Every-which-way was blocked, with guards posted at every corner. She had been caught several times, only to be sent back to square one.

She was frustrated, she was tired, she was dirty, she was _desperate_. She was beginning to feel like all hope was lost. By now, her family most likely were lost...hurt...or even worse. Not knowing what was to become of them made it all the more painful for her to bear.

Just when she felt she couldn't take the weight of all this anymore, guards were letting some civilians back into the state, saying that some parts were cleared and safe for people to return; even Trish was allowed back in.

It was like a dream as she crossed back. It happened all so fast, that she could scarcely fathom why this is. The state was under so much chaos, and now they're letting people back in? Something didn't sit right with her, but she could care less. As long as she could find out where her family is, that was all that mattered to her, nothing else.

Trish was led from one city to another, one police station to the next, almost as if an unseen force was guiding her. It was the strangest sensation. Officers and officials herding people around; Trish especially. It felt as if someone was deliberately leading her to these places, but where this force wanted her to end up, she didn't know.

Her final destination landed with a police station in Kingston, where she sat on a rugged, leather bench, waiting for an officer to become available to her. The station itself was a mess; litter everywhere, people everywhere, and not enough officers to attend to everyone. There was so much noise with everyone trying to talk over each other, people coming to and fro, that Trish wanted to just up and leave, but she remained steadfast.

She had her elbows on her knees and head between her hands, trying to block it all out and keep her head clear. She kept whispering some sort of soothing mantra to herself she learned in one of her yoga classes, although what little good it was doing her.

"… Trish Wright?..."

Trish let out a small gasp, being startled out of her thoughts. She didn't even hear anyone approach. She looked up to see a well-dressed gentleman standing before her with a gentle smile on his face. He carried an accent she couldn't quite place. German, perhaps?

She straightened herself as she sat upright, clearing her throat of any saliva before answering, "Ye-yes?..."

Continuing to smile politely, the gentleman handed her a slip of paper. "Your children are located here."

Trish let out a faltered breath, an overwhelming sensation of relief filling her. She took the paper and opened it, revealing a name and a telephone number. Her eyes furrowed skeptically at what was jotted down. "How did you-?" She peered back up, only to see that the German gentleman had already gone. She bolted up and looked around hastily for him, but he was nowhere in sight.

She let out a weary breath, now plagued with so many questions for him.

Unable to find him in the immediate vicinity, Trish headed for the nearest available telephone to make an urgent call.

* * *

Fet held out the phone to Claire, dumbfounded. "It's your aunt."

Claire nearly fell out of her chair. "What…?"

He stood there silently, speechless like her.

Claire almost forgot to breathe, clutching her chest tightly. She stood up and nervously strode to Fet, taking the phone from him. She eventually brought the receiver to her ear, and spoke softly, "Aunt...Trish?"

" _Claire_?!"

Claire instantly fell to her knees and burst into tears, and on the other end, she could hear her aunt do the same. Claire clasped a hand over her mouth, attempting to drown out her sorrows- and yet, immeasurable joy to hear her aunt's voice.

After a minute, Claire clumsily got back to her feet, and composed herself as best she could to speak to her aunt coherently. "Oh my God! Oh my God! I just- I can't even-"

" _I know...I know..._ " said Trish, barely able to contain her joy. " _I don't even know where to begin-_ "

"What happened to you?!" Claire cried frustratingly, stifling a sob. "We...we looked _everywhere_ for you!"

She could hear Trish holding back her anguish. " _I'm so sorry..._ " she sobbed softly. " _I'm so sorry… Before I knew it, I wasn't allowed back into the state. And then...I can't explain it,_ _all of sudden_ _they started to let people back in, and then I got a number to call you._ "

Claire squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the overwhelming sensation to cry again. She took a deep breath before speaking, but her aunt spoke first, " _Did you find Chris?!_ "

"Yes!" Claire immediately blurted out, not wanting to waste any seconds to answer. "We found him at the hospital. He's safe. He's fine...but..." She trailed, not sure if she wanted to tell Trish the whole truth right then and there. "His arm is broken-

" _What_?!"

"-but it's healing, and he's safe with us-"

" _'_ _Us'? Who're you with?_ "

"Oh!" Claire whirled around to face Fet, acknowledging that he was still nearby. "Oh my God! Yeah- um, we ran into these group of people that are fighting the vampires, and me and Chris have been staying with them ever since. They're really good people."

Trish let out a relieved sigh. " _That's good to hear._ " She then changed the subject, " _What about_ _Ben_ _? Is he...with you_?"

Claire froze, caught off guard by the question. "N-no," she stammered. "I haven't seen him." She heard her aunt sniffling, and guilt emerged its ugly head. "I'm sorry."

" _No, no,_ " Trish reassured her. " _I'm just so happy you and Chris are okay. Once we see each other again, we'll try to find him._ "

Claire grew quiet on her end, causing Trish to worry. " _Claire_?"

"I'm- I'm sorry," Claire apologized hastily. "I was just lost in thought for a sec. So...where are you? We'll come pick you up. We're in Red Hook right now, and it's hard for anyone to get in without proof that you live here...and that you're not infected."

Trish paused, having to recollect where she was exactly. " _I'm at the police station in..._ _K_ _ingston._ "

Claire bobbed her head. "Okay, okay...you just stay there, we'll come get you, okay? And...we'll talk more then."

Trish sniffled again, more tears coming on. "I _'m...just so_ happy _you and Chris are safe._ "

Claire's bottom lip trembled. "Me too… Me too… We'll see each other soon."

After their heartfelt goodbyes, Claire hung up the phone, and exhaled profoundly, letting out all her anxiety and stress with it.

"So, that really was your aunt?" Fet asked somewhat cautiously.

Claire nodded, a wry little smile on her face. "Yes...that was definitely her," she said joyously. "I...I just can't believe it! I'm so happy she's alive!" She wiped some tears from her eyes.

Fet's mouth formed a thin line, looking doubtful. "I hate to ruin this for ya, but how did she get my number?"

Claire turned to him, stupefied. She smiled nervously. "What? What do you mean?"

Fet rubbed the back of his neck, and shrugged his shoulder. "I don't remember you leaving any numbers down for anyone."

Claire scrunched up her features, pondering on his words. "That's...that's true..."

"Do you know the number for my place?"

Claire's eyes went to the floor. "N-no..."

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, shaking his head. "I don't like this. You sure that was her-?"

"Yes!" Claire spat furiously. "I think I know my own aunt if she talked to me!"

Fet's hands immediately went up in defense. "Hey, take it easy! I wasn't insulting you."

Claire clapped her hands over her mouth, ashamed she raised her voice like that to him. "Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it!" She said regretfully. "I'm just a little anxious right now." She then clutched her hands together and started to pace around leisurely. "So...what are we going to do? Can we go get her? I told her we would."

Fet looked back at the telephone. "I don't know. It just seems strange, no?" Claire turned back to him with her undivided attention. "Just out of the blue she calls you- knows my number. Sounds fishy to me."

Claire racked her brain, trying to justify all this. "I might of told some policemen about staying with you. I mean, I know I told them I was looking for her, even showing them her photo." She gesticulated her emotions, showing her faith of the situation. "I don't think there's anything to worry about."

Fet leaned against a wall, thinking. "Maybe I should go alone on this-"

"What?! No!" Claire exasperated, standing in front of him now. "You don't even know what she looks like!"

"You said you have a picture of her."

Claire scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, so! I _have_ to speak with her! I-" She stopped, eyes darting to the side shamefully. "I need to tell her what really happened with Ben. I don't want her hearing it from Chris." She peered up at Fet pleadingly, clasping her hands together for good measure. "Please. I have to go and see her! I have to talk with her. I don't care how ridiculous this all sounds, and I don't care how she got to this point, but I have to see her! Please!"

After his eyes lingered on her for a moment, he let out an amused chuckle. "You're going to keep making excuses to come with, huh?"

Claire smirked at him sheepishly. "I'll walk to that police station by myself if I have to," she declared jokingly, although Fet was sure she was serious.

Fet threw down his arms in defeat. "Guess I can't say 'no' to that." He looked around himself to see if anyone else had come into the warehouse without his knowing; however, the place was still scarce of people. "Was hoping to get someone else to join us, but…guess the docs aren't back yet."

Claire gestured in the direction of where Setrakian went. "What about the professor?"

Fet turned in the general direction of the professor's usual place for privacy. "Ah, I would hate to bug him. Unless it has something to do with the Master or that Nazi monkey slave of his, he won't budge."

Claire couldn't help but crack at smile at that part about Eichhorst, and began heading for the door. "Let's go then," she said eagerly. "Every second we waste, my aunt is still waiting for us."

Fet shortly joined her at her side. "Yeah, and normally it wouldn't take long to get there, but with everything going on, it's gonna take an hour to reach-"

Claire spun around with an astonished expression. "An _hour_?! Are you serious?!"

Fet gave a slight nod. "Yeah, and daylight seems to be precious these days. Don't want to waste any of it." He hurried on ahead of Claire, going to the garage to get his van started. Claire quickly hopped into the passenger side. After starting the engine, he drove out onto the streets, making the somewhat lengthy journey to Kingston.

With the afternoon light on the horizon, Claire found some sunglasses and put them on for protection, although she knew she wouldn't need them for long. Looking at the setting sun really made her regret all the times she took it for granted, never once thinking that this light kept horrible and terrible things at bay.

During the drive, she and Fet made small talk; conversing about where they grew up, past relationships- things like that. Anything to keep the optimism up, and not dread on things to come.

"Hey, speaking of old girlfriends," said Claire nonchalantly, "Do you know anyone named Dutch?"

Fet threw a quizzical glance at her direction. "Yeah, I know her," he said.

She waited him to continue on, but kept his focus on the road. "I haven't seen her around before," said Claire, running her fingers over the fabric of her seat.

"Yeah, she kinda has her own thing going on. She comes around every now and then to check in on things," said Fet, although Claire did pick up the obvious disheartening tone.

"Oh." Claire leaned back in her seat, her half-lidded eyes to the floor. Something was slowly creeping up in the back of her mind. "Do you like her?" She asked in the most sincerest of ways, but in reality, it came out rather resentful.

"What?" Fet smiled nervously to her question. "You mean, as a friend, or if I love her…?" He watched Claire shrug a shoulder, not really giving him a clear answer. "To be honest… I don't know," he said. "I thought we had something, but...I think she just needs space...or something." It was clear he was uncomfortable talking about it further.

"Oh..." was all Claire could say. "Sorry for bringing it up then."

"What made you ask?"

"Huh?" She was stumped by his words. "Oh- um..." She sucked in her lips timidly, her eyes going off to the side. "I was just curious, that's all," she said with a small smile.

Fet was not convinced. "Uh huh." But decided to let it go.

Claire breathed out heavily through the nose. She felt a little envious that Fet preferred this Dutch girl over her, if that is whom he would choose over. She didn't know why nor could she explain her feelings over this. Even during times such as this, she would like to know if their was some charming man out there, pining for her approval and attention. Perhaps it was her current situation that made her think these things. It's not like she had strong feelings for Fet or anything. It was more like...a crush to her. She knew it wasn't going to go anywhere, but if only he humored her.

What a stupid thing to think anyway; being jealous of a woman Claire hardly knew.

Feeling too embarrassed to start up anymore conversation, Claire went into her pockets to pull out her small Ipod and put the small earbuds in her ears. She turned it on and became lost in the music that enveloped her thoughts. If not that, all she would do is think about the approaching darkness. She leaned further back in the seat, putting a leg up on the dashboard to relax, assuming Fet wouldn't mind. She ended up closing her eyes, her imagination running wild and turning into happier times.

If only she could go back to them.

Claire must of dozed off, because she was startled into full alert when Fet put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We're here," he said, putting the van into parking. He noticed her wide, confused eyes scanning around herself. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Claire sighed, sitting up in her seat. "I think you did, but...it's okay. Had to wake up anyway," she said, and put her Ipod well away.

Fet had parked on the other side of the street of the police station. They both exited, and while Claire was ready to head inside, Fet stood behind back the van, pondering about something. She turned to him, "What's wrong?"

"Wondering if I should bring something along," said Fet, staring at the van doors. "Never know when those munchers will show up. Won't be long now."

Claire looked to the police station then back at Fet. "I don't think they – would like that," she said with uneasiness, referring to the policemen inside. "I mean, do they allow that? -Weapons, I mean- during these times?"

Fet shrugged. "Dunno, but..." he opened the doors and went inside, and after a minute, came back out, stuffing a nail gun into his large coat. "Better safe than sorry."

With Fet now stocked comfortably, the two walked into the police station.

Claire's heart quickened, eager to find her aunt and get the hell out. There wasn't as many people as she thought there would be in the precinct. It was mostly pedestrians like herself and Fet that populated the place rather than the police themselves. It really did show that these creatures had an impact on the populace; less saviors than there are victims. The sight troubled Claire.

"Claire?..." Fet called out to her, seeing her staring into space instead of searching for her relative.

"Huh?" She looked up at him with a perplexed face. "I'm...I'm fine," she told him, and went on ahead to search for her aunt.

Her eyes scanned every person nearby, some even sat on the floor since there were only limited seats for people to sit on. Some of them had their bowed in complete sorrow, making it a little more difficult for Claire to identify. Even so, she wanted to make absolutely sure none of these people could be her aunt.

As she tilted her head to scrutinize another downtrodden individual, she heard her name being called out. "Claire!" And it wasn't Fet's.

Claire spun around, and clasped her hands over her mouth in relief and utter joy. There, no more than twenty feet from her, was her aunt Trish. She appeared tired and worn, but it was most definitely her; there was no denying that.

Both of their faces lit up ecstatically. "Trish!" Claire yelled back, tears of joy already welling in her eyes.

Time slowed for them in that very moment. They rushed towards each other, never minding the few people they ran into rather rudely. All that mattered in that moment was finding each other. When they met, they embraced in a tight hug, never wanting to let go; like it would be their last.

And that was when time returned to their normality.

"Oh my God," Trish mumbled in relief, her voice sobbing. "I was so worried about you!"

"Me too!" Claire blubbered just as much, squeezing her aunt for reassurance that she was indeed real.

After they released one another, they hastily wiped their eyes of any tears.

"You...you look well," Trish replied sincerely, gesturing an arm to Claire's overall appearance. That's when her sight extended beyond the young woman, looking around her. "Chris isn't with you?" She asked worriedly.

"No, but he's fine," Claire told her casually. "He's with other people at the moment-"

"What other people?" Trish pressed, her voice rising in panic.

"Other people we're staying with," Claire answered back as calmly as she could. "They're good people. He just decided to go with them, that's all. He wasn't at Fet's place when you called."

"Who?"

"That would be me." Said Fet, joining the women now. "I'm Vasiliy Fet, but you can just call me Fet. Everyone does." He held out his hand for Trish to shake.

Trish looked a little stunned by his sudden appearance, but thought to be courteous and take the man's hand. "I'm Trish."

Fet cracked a smile at her. "I see where Claire gets her good looks from," he told her politely. Claire and Trish exchanged awkward glances with each other. "Something I said?" Fet wondered, watching the peculiar expressions of the women in front of him.

Trish brushed it off. "It's fine."

It seemed like Claire and Trish were about to catch up on what happened between them during each others absence, but Fet had to interject, much to their dismay. "I hate to interrupt you ladies, but we really need to get going," he told them hesitantly. "There's not much daylight left, and we all know what happens after that."

The two women nodded in agreement and followed Fet out of the police station and back to his van. He opened the back doors for Claire and Trish. "I know you two have a lot to catch up on, so I thought you might want some privacy."

"Probably a good idea," said Claire.

Fet helped the women into the back, and once they were settled in as comfortably as they could get, he got into the driver's side and started up the vehicle once again. He drove back onto the streets, heading swiftly back into Red Hook before it got any darker outside. Fet knew that the _strigoi_ were already stirring in the shadows…

Claire and Trish sat across from one another, with the younger avoiding eye contact out of timidness...and shame.

"You look well," said Trish, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence.

Claire bobbed her head. "Yeah, so do you, considering."

Trish scoffed to that. "Yeah, well, that's what not showering and sleeping for a couple days will do to you," she replied sarcastically.

"Fet has a working shower back at his place," said Claire. "And there's even hot water with it."

Trish let out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh my God, I _really_ need that," she stated desperately.

Claire smiled to her aunt's statement, and Trish smiled back pleasantly.

Shortly after, Trish's smile slowly faded to that of a mournful frown. "You have no idea how worried I was about you and Chris," she told Claire softly.

"I can have some idea," Claire said somewhat defensively. "We were worried about you too, you know."

Trish nodded her head in understanding. "Yeah...sorry, I didn't think of that." She placed her hands on her knees and gripped them. "After I left Chris at the hospital, somehow I...ended up out of the state! I...have no idea how that happened!" She paused, trying to keep her composure in check. "It took a few days, but somehow they let some of us back in, and before I knew it, I was in Kingston," she chuckled coincidentally to that. "It's just so odd they actually let a few of us back in..."

"Odd, huh?" Claire commented on that choice of word, and shrugged a shoulder, thinking nothing of it.

Trish thought to do the same gesture. "I don't know, maybe it isn't odd. I guess it's just odd to me." She leaned in, getting ready to tell more of her story. "Although...the oddest thing about it all, was when I got to the police station in Kingston. Here I am, trying to talk to someone about the whereabouts of my family, and I suppose they sent someone out that actually knew where you were. They gave me a phone number to call that Fet guy."

Claire perked up at that. "Oh! I guess...I did tell policemen about where I was staying- when I was out looking for you. I showed them your photo and whatnot, so..."

"Did you look for me in Kingston?"

Claire scrunched up her features, thinking, but ended up shaking her head. "I...don't think so."

"Hmm." Trish pondered on this too. "Well, did you meet a man with a German accent? That's the one who gave me the number to call you."

 _German accent?_

Claire's heart froze. She must of misheard. "G-German accent?" She repeated back meakly.

Trish nodded. "Yeah. It was a well-dressed man with a German accent. Pretty sure it was German..." She thought on it for a second. "Or maybe it was Russian? Somewhere around there- I don't know." She didn't think it mattered.

For Claire, it did matter though. She put a hand to her chest, putting pressure over her heart to keep it from wanting to beat right out of her body.

Of course, Trish caught this strange behavior of hers. "What's wrong?"

Claire didn't know where to begin. She was hoping to ease her aunt into telling her about Eichhorst, but...she figured there wasn't going to be an easy way explaining her complicated situation she put her family in.

But where to _begin_? "Aunt Trish..." Claire took in a large breath and released it to calm herself. "That German man...is one of them; those monsters running around out there." She couldn't even look Trish in the eye as she said this. "He's a vampire."

Trish stared at her doubtfully, like Claire just told a really bad joke or a lie. "What are you talking about? You mean, that European man I met? He looks like a normal per-"

"It's a disguise," Claire responded curtly. "He dresses like everyone else to fool you. It's how he gets around."

Trish scoffed and jerked back in her seat, completely baffled by Claire's words. "Claire, I don't understand. So, you're saying there's a vampire that dresses like a regular person, and fakes a German accent-"

"The accent is real," Claire added.

Again, Trish was completely befuddled. "So, this German _'vampire'_ , dresses like a person, to trick people- for what exactly? If any of it is true, what does he have to gain by tricking me? He got me in contact with you."

Claire was getting frustrated with Trish. "I know it's a lot to take in," she said. "But please believe me when I say this man is dangerous. He-" she tried to keep from sobbing, putting a hand over her mouth and sniffling. "He hurt me- he _touched_ me. He hurt Chris too."

"Oh!-." Trish now placed a hand over her mouth in shock. "He...he's the one that hurt Chris?" Claire nodded. Trish let out a faltered breath and shook her head in disbelief. "But...but why would he do this? Why does he want to hurt you two?"

Claire was on the brink of a complete breakdown at this point. It was hard for her to keep it together when the words she dreaded on saying were on the tip of her tongue. She knew she had to say it; say it and get it over with.

 _He killed Uncle Ben._

"Trish..." Claire swallowed. "He-"

.

..

...

* * *

… "Claire?..."

… "Claire…?"

"...Can you hear me?"

"...Can you hear me?"

"Claire?"

"Please, answer me!"

"… ugh..." Claire blinked, her sight unfocused and blurry. No lying on the floor, her limbs were sore, very sore, and her head was throbbing with a high-pitched ringing in the ears. "Jesus _Christ_ ," she drawled.

"Oh my God!" Trish exclaimed, attempting to get Claire to her feet. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Ngh-!" Claire winced a little in pain as she stood up, and with her vision becoming clearer, she could see that her aunt took quite a tumble as well; there were scrapes and bruises on her face, as well as a trickle of blood running down the side.

Fet opened the metal door separating the front to the back of the van. "Are you ladies okay?" He asked urgently.

"I think so," said Trish, examining Claire to make sure she was absolutely conscious enough to stand on her own.

"What the hell happened?" Claire grumbled, brushing off debris from her clothes.

"A car plowed into the side," Fet said. "Luckily the dent wasn't big enough to penetrate the hull. This thing has taken enough beatings already." He turned back to the front, and suddenly, he grew anxious. "Uh oh."

Claire snapped her head in his direction. "What do you mean 'uh oh'?"

Fet was immediately on the move as he replied, "Munchers." For a brief moment he turned back to the women. "Stay in here. You'll be safe," was all he said before he shut the door.

And not a second after he exited the van, the women gasped frightfully as they heard the creatures climb on top of the vehicle, pounding and clawing from above, trying to make their way in. Both Claire and Trish crouched closer to the ground as their eyes remained transfixed to the ceiling.

"Is he sure it's safe here?" Trish wondered with a tremble to her tone.

"If he says to stay here, then we should," said Claire firmly. "Besides," she searched around, "I think Fet has all the weapons with him..."

The women listened intently to all sorts of sounds from beyond the walls: snarls and growls from the _strigoi_ , gunshots, people screaming, and possibly another vehicle crash nearby. Claire worried about Fet being on his own without his usual crew with him, but kept assuring herself that he'd be alright; he's been out there on his own before...right?

Just then, the doors to the van flew open with unspeakable strength. Before Claire had time to register who it was, a figure grabbed hold of her and dragged her out onto the street. With the other hand, he whipped it over her mouth tightly. She could feel some sort of cloth pressed against her, making her breathe in whatever chemical it was laced with.

Claire screamed angrily and fought wildly in her captors arms, eventually wiggling out of his hold and falling to the ground. She instantly began coughing profusely, the chemical drying out her throat. There was a strange, sweet aftertaste to it.

When oxygen returned to her lungs normally, she peered up at her assailant, and screamed for dear life. It was Eichhorst.

There he was, standing before her in a dark trench coat, peering down with those intense blue eyes of his. In his hand there was a cloth, and Claire could take a wild guess what he was trying to do to her with it. Her eyes went to the cloth he held, and then met his determined gaze. There was no smile on him, nor did he speak. He didn't need to. Claire was keenly aware what he wanted: he came for her, and nothing else. Now the notion was dancing around in her mind, making itself known loud and clear; and she was terrified beyond belief.

"No!..." Claire cried breathlessly, backing away from him like a frightened child. He took another step closer, taking a bottle out of his pocket and emptying more of its contents into the cloth. "No! NO! GET AWAY FROM ME!" She screamed erratically.

Eichhorst was already upon her in a blinding flash. He wrapped his arms around her and smashed the cloth over her mouth again. Claire sobbed miserably and tried as hard as she could to keep her face away from breathing in the chloroform, but it was futile; its effects taking hold. Eichhorst could feel her energy leaving, as she became more limp in his arms.

With having put down a few of the lesser vampires, Fet came in and rammed into Eichhorst's side, dropping Claire to ground. As the two struggled with each other, Claire got on all fours and crawled away groggily with tremendous effort. Even the sounds around her were becoming muffled in her head.

"N-no..." she whined, her joints getting heavier with each shuffle she took. She groaned infuriatingly, hoping to somehow fight off its effects to escape the surrounding area. "I can't… I can't pass out now..." She barely managed to get herself standing, using a nearby car to put her weight against. "I don't want to- I don't want to go with him!"

Through her dulled senses, she heard her aunt's voice from a distance which grew closer within seconds. "I'm here. I'm here!" She heard Trish call out to her.

"Trish..." Claire mumbled, wanting to get closer to her aunt for comforts sake.

She then felt her aunt's presence torn away from her in a matter of seconds, unbeknownst to Claire that a vampire had pounced on Trish. Claire cried, feeling hopeless, helpless and _alone_. Her vision was so blurry now, that everything and everyone were mere colored shapes in her line of sight.

"Help!" Claire screamed out, sobbing afterwards. "Somebody help us!"

...

But...nobody came.

She slumped to the ground, continuing to cry quietly in defeat. Even though she was determined to keep conscious, her body wanted nothing more than to sleep off the anesthetic. She rocked back and forth to stay alert, shaking her head. "I can't...please..." she told herself. "I need to...keep awake."

Out from the corner of her eye, she saw a dark figure approach. Not being able to see them clearly, she immediately panicked, standing upright, although barely. Without a word spoken, they strode closer to her. Using the car as leverage, she attempted to get away from this foreign shape, muttering insanities.

 _It's a vampire. It's a vampire. It has to be one of them. Coming to feed._ _Coming to feed on_ you. "Please...stay away from me," Claire cried softly. "St-stay away..."

It didn't take long for them to catch up, and they easily scooped the girl up in their arms. Little moans of protest escaped her lips, but she was too weak to fight them off. Whomever this was, they graciously carried her back to their vehicle. In the back of her head, Claire was beginning to grow faint, feeling safe and warm against their frame. Her breathing became more shallow. This overwhelming sensation of closeness eased all of her current fears away.

She now finally welcomed the coming darkness that took her.

* * *

Claire awoke with a groan. "Trish?..." She pushed her upper body off the ground, having been sleeping on the floor the entire time. "Fet?"

As she began to sit upright, that's when she felt a heavy, alien weight around her neck, followed by the horrible rattle of metal. "Wha-?!" She put her fingers to her neck, realizing there was a thick, leather collar encasing it. Her finger tips brushed against large, circular holes placed on either sides of it. "What is this?!" She shrieked.

Claire pulled on the chain attached to the collar, but it met with an abrupt end. She took it in her hands and gave it another hefty pull. Her eyes trailed it, and halfway, she encountered a large, white cement block with a curvature on top for where the neck is to placed; just like in the days of old when they chopped off the heads of people…

She continued to follow the chain to the end, where it was attached to an intricate pulley system. Her breathing hitched dramatically, her heart racing wildly.

Then her radius of searching expanded to the rest of the room: there wasn't much space for her to maneuver in this octagonal dungeon she was confined in, complete with padded white walls. Probably installed to keep whomever was inside from hurting themselves.

Claire looked up, but averted her gaze instantly for there was a bright, white light beaming down on her.

Taking the all the sights in, that's when she came to the horrifying conclusion-

"No… No!..."

she had been imprisoned.

"No! Oh my God! No, no, no, no, no, no, no! This can't be happening. This can't be happening! This can't be real! Th-this can't be real!"

She shot up from the floor and began pounding on the walls of her cell, screaming and shrieking at the top of her lungs. She clawed at her neck brace, chipping some of her fingernails in the process. She kicked at the cement block that held part of her chain, and that's when she finally noticed that her shoes had been taken from her. For whatever reason this was, she had absolutely no clue.

Claire continued to do whatever it took to escape her cramped confines for who knows how long, before she finally collapsed in a heap on the floor, exhausted all her energy. She got on her knees, mouth open to take in as much oxygen as her lungs could carry. No matter how much she tried to deny it, no matter how much she didn't want to believe it-

"Oh God! Please, no!-"

-There was no escape.

"Let me out- let me out of here! LET ME OOOOOUUT!"


End file.
